Seeking Judgement
by Red Leader
Summary: Crossover with JAG/Stargate/NCIS/The Unit. The Trust attempt on General Cresswell's family and their intention. Meanwhile, the Wraith plan to seek the location of Earth with an unlikely source. Chapter 10 is uploaded
1. Prologue

A/N: Some might recall reading a previous version of this story. It was previously listed as 'What For'. Reviewers had some minor complaints, and it was taken down for revisions. Hope you enjoy the revised version, and please, leave feedback.

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate franchises, they belong to MGM, I do not own JAG, NCIS and the Unit, they belongs to CBS. There is no money involved.

Seeking Judgment

Prologue

Judge Advocate General  
Falls Church, Virginia  
0700 Zulu (0200 Local)

He sat in his office and pondered the twists of fate that had brought him to this time and place. Somewhere, he'd read that each and every person in the world was alive so that they could be at one specific time and place when they were needed the most. He couldn't imagine that he'd been there yet. He'd been born in '63, to a naval family. There'd really been no other option for him than to follow in the footsteps of the men in his family and become a naval aviator like his father and grandfather before him. A grandfather that had been killed in '42 while flying off the USS Hornet; a father that had been shot down in '69 while flying an Iron Hand mission off the Ticonderoga. A family of heroes. Could he do no less than follow their example?

The Naval Academy at Annapolis had been a good place to start, and he'd graduated as Ensign Harmon Rabb, Jr. Then came flight school where he'd earned his gold wings. Then a slot in an operational squadron at sea. All in all, the makings of a promising career. A career tragically cut short by a ramp strike during night-time carrier operations that resulted in the death of his RIO (Radar Intercept Officer. Back-seater in an F-14), and his subsequent removal from flight status because of an undiagnosed night-blindness condition.

At a loss for what to do with himself, Harmon Rabb returned to school on the Navy's dime, and eventually graduated from Georgetown with a degree in law. Upon his successful graduation, the Navy assigned him to the office of the Judge Advocate General. Despite his new chance for a career, and despite the fact that he felt himself privileged to practice law and to solve the various mysteries of life, he still felt unfulfilled, like he had yet to find his one specific time and place in his life.

He sat in his office, drinking his third cup of coffee of the day, as he pondered life, and the current lack of a case load, as he watched _HER_ walk off the elevator and into the office. He watched as one of the junior officers, Lt. Commander Bud Roberts approached the woman and greeted her like an old friend. She stood about five-foot-seven, and was slim, like an athlete. Commander Rabb dismissed her from his mind for the moment, and wondered when their new commanding officer, Major General Gordon Cresswell, would assign a case to him. He wondered, not for the first time, if the old adage about combat could be applied to the life of a JAG lawyer; 'Hours of boredom punctuated by mere seconds of adrenaline fueled action.'

"Commander Rabb." Lt. Roberts called my name.

"Yes, Bud.?" I replied as I took a sip of my coffee.

"I would like to introduce you to Ms. Melissa Sumner."

Commander Rabb approached the young woman and shook her hand. "What can I do for you Ms. Sumner?" He asked her as he walked back to the printer, on a pretense of grabbing something vaguely work related

"I want to press charges on an Air Force Lt. Colonel by the name of John Sheppard." She said as she opened her handbag and grabbed a picture of Lt. Colonel Sheppard wearing a gray flight suit.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Sumner, but you'll have to direct your request to the Air Force JAG. We only service the Navy and Marine Corps here." Rabb knew whatever was troubling wouldn't go away that easily, but it had been worth the shot.

"Lt. Colonel Sheppard killed my father Commander. He was a Colonel in the United States Marine Corps. Does that change the jurisdiction?"

"Yes ma'am. It does. How can I help you?" said Commander Rabb as he pulled a fresh legal pad from the stack behind him and began to write down details.

"Where was your father stationed?"

"Cheyenne Mountain."

"NORAD? What was a Marine Colonel doing at NORAD?"

"I don't know, but that's where he was killed by Sheppard. He told me once it was Deep Space Radar Telemetry, but I think it was a cover story. My father knows very little about astronomy."

"Alright. Give me a few minutes while I pull up his file?"

"Of course, Commander."

Commander Rabb keyed in his access code to the personnel database and pulled up the file on one Marshall Sumner. It was the standard record of a long career, but as he came to the most recent posting, he found his computer locked out and red flags dancing across his screen. 'Uh-oh', he thought. 'The General is not going to like this.'

Less than five minutes later, Lt. Commander Roberts poked his head into the Commander's office and politely informed him that the General wished to see him.

"Sir! Commander Rabb reporting as ordered!"

"As you were, Commander. What have you done this time, Rabb?"

"Sir?"

"I just got a call from a rather angry Lieutenant General at JSOC, telling me I should keep a tighter leash on my officers. What the hell were you doing, Commander?"

"Looking up information on a Marine Colonel by the name of Sumner sir."

"Marshall Sumner?"

"You know him, sir?"

"We walked some of the same paths in Iraq. Why are you looking into his record Commander?"

"His daughter is here, wanting to file charges against the man who killed him."

"Melissa is here? Sumner's dead? I think you need to start at the beginning, Commander."

"Yes sir. Melissa Sumner walked into our offices just a short while ago and said she wanted to press charges against an Air Force officer. When I told her of the separation of JAG jurisdictions, she told me the Air Force wouldn't take her case, and that the officer in question killed her father, a Marine Colonel. So I asked her the basics, and then tried to pull up his record, and set off a few flags when I did so."

"More than a few flags Commander. But continue."

"All I found is that Colonel Sumner was stationed at NORAD before to his death during a 'training accident'."

"NORAD? Training accident? What sort of training at NORAD gets a highly decorated Marine force recon Colonel killed?"

"I don't have the answer to that one sir. But I will."

General Cresswell pressed the button on his intercom and spoke rapidly into it. 'Tiner! Ask the young woman in Commander Rabb's office, Ms. Melissa Sumner, to join us in here!'

The young woman in question walked in a few minutes later and was surprised by the man behind the desk, but held her cool until the young Petty Officer left the office.

"Uncle Gordie!"

"Melissa. It's been such a long time. You don't write, you don't call. And now I hear your dad is dead?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle Gordie. I thought Mom had called you. When I didn't see you at the funeral, I just figured you were out of the country somewhere."

"Even if I had been in a prison somewhere, I would have made it to your Dad's funeral, Melissa. I never forget a man who saved my life."

"Then you can help me?"

"I'll look into it, Melissa. That's all I can promise. Why don't you come back in a week, and we'll see what we have then. I'll assign my best team to it. Commander?"

"Right away sir!"


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N: Thank you Texan for the wonderful insight. _

Seeking Judgement

Chapter One - Memories and Nightmares

128 N. Chestnut Lane  
Colorado Springs, Co  
0700 Zulu (0000 Local)

Major Marshall Sumner, along with his wife Lieutenant Reiko Sumner, and their daughter Melissa, had stopped at a yard sale. The day was warm and pleasant, with just a touch of the summer's heat yet to come. Marshall had met Reiko years ago, when he had been stationed at Quantico. Reiko had been in the Officer Training Program, and the moment he saw her, he knew no other would do for him. Her name was more than appropriate for the vision of loveliness she presented to the world, for in her ancestral home of Japan, Rei meant lovely. Their courtship had been fierce and quick, like their personalities, and their marriage had produced one daughter that was a delicate blend of both of their features; her mother's lovely eyes, and her father's stern attitude.

The family had only moved to Colorado Springs the previous week, and already they were up to their usual habits, spending time at yard sales, looking for someone's else junk that could become their treasure. At the tender young age of thirteen, Melissa is beginning a journey that will lead her into the one place that most parents dread; high school and dating. In two days time, both Marshall and his wife Reiko would report for duty at their as yet classified new posting. Their orders simply had a time and date for the reporting purposes, and nothing more. But both were used to secret orders; such was the life of those special soldiers in the Special Forces.

While the two of them argued lightly with one another over a lamp, Melissa found herself in a growing tug-of-war with an older gentleman over a set of pretty stones with faint writings on them. The man tried to grab all of the stones on the table, but Melissa beat him to two of the stones. She went over to her father and gave him a look that he couldn't refuse. The family went home, with daughter Melissa holding on to the two red stones. Stones that the owner had claimed had been found in a dig in Giza, decades ago.

Wraith Keeper Hall

The two masked Wraith guards brought Sumner into a large open space, with a long table set in the middle of the open room. Sumner glanced about the room, in quick darts of his eyes, taking in details that others might miss; the high ceilings obscured by mists, the rotten fruits and vegetables on the table, the skeletal remains of a man seated at the table. He feels a presence behind him and whirls in place only to find himself face to face with a vile and disgusting female version of the creatures that now hold him prisoner.

"What do you call yourself?" she asked with a snarl.

"Marshall Sumner, Colonel, United States Marine Corps."

"You show so little fear. I wonder, is it courage or, could it be ignorance?"

As she looks upon this man she feels something emanating in waves off his body. It should be fear, as all humans of this galaxy fear her and her kind, but it is something else. She feels his resilience.

"You must feel hunger yet you do not eat. Why are you here?"

"The food is unappealing. You captured me."

"Why were you on the planet?"

"My people travel through the Stargates, looking for others to trade with."

"Yet you carry weapons?"

"For own defense. Why have you captured my people?"

"You trespassed onto our feeding grounds."

"Feeding grounds?"

"All living things must eat. In this, certainly we are similar. I can feel your hunger, yet you resist. Why?"

"It looks like the food failed to agree with him." He said as he pointed to the skeletal remains at the table.

"In that respect, we are quite different. We do not require our food, to agree with us."

Marshall Sumner blanched at the realization that came to his mind. These creatures that held him…they were some sort of carnivore and they saw him as their meal!

"Tell me the name of your world."

Sumner was emphatic in his answer. No! In his mind he could see hundreds of thousands of these creatures as they descended on his helpless home. He could see them feasting on his wife and daughter. No. He would tell them nothing. Nothing!

Unsatisfied with his answer, she strikes him with an open hand across the chest, and he feels the incision as it happens, and he feels the life draining from him as she takes his life essence and the thoughts from his mind.

"His world is called Earth, and it is a rich feeding ground! Billions of inhabitants!" She shouts as she releases him, unwilling to drain him completely before he has revealed all of his secrets. But a shingle shot silences him forever.

Major John Sheppard had crept up to a window looking down over the large open room. He'd seen the creature feed off his Commanding Officer. He'd seen his CO give away classified information. And when he thought the creature had stopped feeding on him, when he thought the Colonel was already dead, he pulled the trigger on his weapon, sending a single five-point-four-five millimeter round into Sumner's heart, stopping it, and his brutal interrogation at the same time.

* * *

Sumner Residence  
Colorado Springs, Co  
0100 Zulu (1800 Local)

Melissa woke up in the middle of the night. She started to scream in agony as if something was sucking the life out of her. Major Reiko Sumner rushed in to her room and knelt down by her bedside. She could see the tears falling down her daughter's face.

"What is it honey, is it one of your nightmares of snakes with glowing eyes?" She asks.

"No mom, it's something much worse ." Melissa responded. "I think dad is dead."

Somehow Reiko knew that her daughter was connected to her father. Reiko had tried to deny the existence of aliens to her but she knew better. Upon reaching the age of eighteen, and having graduated from high school, Melissa, whom her parents had expected to enter the Corps, decided instead to attend college and pursue a degree in astrophysics.

"Dad is not dead." Reiko tried to reassure her. "It's just a bad dream.

"This dream is different."

"Oh. Can you tell me about it?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Try to get some sleep, Melissa. You have that exam in the morning, and you need to be well-rested for it."

Reiko gave her daughter a peck on the forehead, and walked out of the door, leaving the door ajar a few inches. 'Marshal, I hope your okay out there in Atlantis.' She thought.

A Wraith, a male this time, entered the Keepers' Hall surrounded by an escort of masked soldiers. He was still stunned that their food, their cattle no less, had not only attempted, but succeeded in rescuing their comrades, something that had been unthinkable for centuries. But the evidence of the rescue lay in plain sight. Three of his fellow Wraith lay dead on the floor, and the Keeper and her latest meal along side them. At least their sacrifices would not be in vain, for he and his fellows would feed on their fallen lives.

He approached the dead human and searched through the many pockets in his clothing, finding many items of no value, at least to him, and one with an immense value; a simple red stone with Lantean writing!

He turned to one of his escorts and spoke mentally to him, '_Take this stone to my lab, and remain there, guarding it._'

He turned once again to survey the damage and was about to order the human's remains tossed out an airlock when he felt a tendril, a weak tendril, of thought emanate from the Keeper!

_"You must cure the Human. I took what I needed, but he can yet be saved."_

_"Why?"_

_"He is the key to a vast new feeding ground. The ancient enemies, the Lanteans, are gone, but his mind indicates where they went. We can follow, if we save him and probe his thoughts. You must do this, or the Hive will die. There is not enough food in this galaxy for all Wraiths. You can go to the new feeding grounds and become its owner!"_

And so thinking, she died. The Wraith ordered the Human male removed to his lab, where he fed him a little energy from his own meager stores, just enough to revive the body, and then proceeded to repair the damage done by the other Human's weapon. Once he was repaired, the Wraith put him into a healing pod that would monitor his health, and allow him to heal. Periodically, the Wraith would visit with the unconscious form of Marshall Sumner and would transfer some of his essence to the Human, gradually giving back, over the course of months, what the Keeper had taken in mere seconds.

But he had a plan for this Human, and his plan must come to fruition if he was to save the Hive. Such were the last orders of his Keeper. They were orders he would carry out no matter the consequence. The guards he kept posted outside his lab were always well fed, and loyal to a fault. They made sure no one else interfered with his plans. And why did they do this, especially when there was a Human they could feed upon so close to them? They had been promised planets of their own in the new feeding ground.

* * *

Capture Plus One Week

The Wraith scientist stood in front of an organic based computer terminal. The display listed the status of repairs to the ship. It also indicated that the engines had been repaired and the ship was ready to launch. Any further repairs could be accomplished while underway. Two of his fellow Wraith enter the control center and took their stations at other terminals. Their long overcoats indicated their respective ranks; brown indicated a ground forces commander, while maroon was reserved for the Dart commanders.

"Have you discovered the location of this new feeding ground?" asked the Maroon Commander.

"No. The Lantean security precautions on the stone are difficult to overcome. I estimate several years before I will be able to breach the security protocols. Perhaps, once we leave this galaxy and enter the void, I will be able to narrow down the reception beam to a more precise location."

"Would it not be easier to occupy the Lantean Citadel? My ground forces stand ready to launch such an assault. We can take the location of this new feeding ground from their own systems."

"No. I think that is not a wise course of action. My Darts report other Hives are awakening. They have intercepted message traffic indicative of a combined assault on the Lantean Citadel. We should cull a few worlds, then go into the void. We can claim the new feeding grounds before the others are aware of them."

"What you two propose will take years. We should strike now, and take the location, then move quickly to secure the new galaxy!"

"Unfortunately for you, the Queen disagrees."

"Bah! The new Queen is still young and un…"

The Wraith General, with the long brown greatcoat, fell to the deck of the ship. His diatribe interrupted before it could truly begin by the flow of his blood from his mouth, his ears, and his nose.

"The late Commander was correct in one respect; I am young. But this gives me vitality and a new brand of wisdom. We will cull several worlds, then head into the void. The promise of this new feeding ground, with uncountable billions of lives will be our new empire!"

The two remaining Wraith in the room turned and knelt as one, in praise of their Queen. Young she may be, but wise she most definitely is. Or at least those were the thoughts they independently broadcast towards their Queen. To do otherwise meant a similar death as they had seen befall the other commander, awaited them.

* * *

One Week Ago  
Colorado Springs Public Library  
Colorado Springs, Co  
1200 Zulu (1700 Local)

Despite the lack of sleep caused by her nightmare early that morning, she had found the entrance exams to be easy. Whether it was due to her upbringing, or her excellence in prep school, or her inane abilities and intelligence, one could never be certain, but in her case, it had ben a combination of the three. She had listed three schools on the exam, but she wasn't entirely sure about her choices. The schools were the popular ones she'd heard her friends talk about, and that was the only reason she'd listed them. Other students, her age, in her situation, had been better prepared, having known for several months which schools they had wanted to apply to, but she had put it off until it was almost too late. She'd listed three schools, but she could always have the exam results sent elsewhere. And that was what had brought her to the Public Library and computer she was presently sitting at, researching her future choice of university.

Her plans were tentative at best, but included a short stint at the local community college, perhaps as much as a year there, to get her feet wet in college life, and expose her to the routine of college coursework before transferring to a four-year school. She'd developed an interest in Astrophysics some years ago after witnessing what the news had called an asteroid collision, in the upper atmosphere of Earth. The collision and subsequent bright explosion had lit up the night skies over North America for several minutes. She could've gone with Astronomy, but Astrophysics sounded cooler to her.

As she gazed upon the computer screen, she began to feel like someone was watching her, watching her very move, and that whoever it was, knew her almost intimately. Whatever was causing the feeling was also bringing on a massive headache, and with it, a large measure of nausea. She tried to squint her eyes at the screen, and massaged her temples, but to little or no avail. A man was passing behind her at that precise moment, and saw that she looked decidedly unwell. He stopped and asked about her.

"Are you alright, Miss?"

"No, I'm not alright." She answered sarcastically, as if he couldn't tell the obvious. And then fainted as the pain grew a thousand times worse in her head.

The man didn't hesitate in his response. He knelt down to straighten her body, rolled up his jacket and placed it under her head, and all while he reached for his cell phone to dial for the emergency services.

Few Hours Later  
Air Force Academy Hospital  
0200 Zulu (1900 Local)

Melissa opened her eyes to see her mother seated next to her bed. It took her a moment to realize she wasn't tucked into her bed at home, and that she was in a hospital bed, and from the looks of things, a military hospital.

"Mom? Where am I?"

"Sweetie! You scared me! When I got the call that' you'd collapsed at the Public Library and were enroute to Community General, I pulled a couple strings and had you re-routed to the base Hospital at Peterson. Do you remember what happened to you?"

"I remember feeling like someone was watching me, like someone was in my head. It hurt a lot. I felt like I wanted to throw up my lunch. Then nothing. Then I woke up here, in this bed."

That was when the door opened and two men walked in. One of them was the man she'd seen at the library earlier that day, the one who asked about her health. The other she remembered her father talking to at some point. Possibly a friend of her father's but she wasn't certain. The first man was dressed in casual clothes, while the second one wore a set of olive green fatigues with no rank insignia. The first man handed her mother a soda and a small bag, of what smelled like a hamburger.

"Hey! Looks like someone decided to rejoin us! Feeling better?"

"I am. Thanks. I saw you at the library, right before I passed out?"

"That's right. You looked pretty ill. I asked how you were and you passed out on me. I made you comfortable and called 9-1-1. The paramedics took care of everything else. I'm Daniel Jackson. I work with your mother up at the Mountain."

She didn't know him personally, but she had heard of him. One of her instructors in high school had made fun of an archaeologist that had destroyed is academic career by publishing articles that the Pyramids at Giza were really landing platforms for ancient alien spaceships! Her instructor thought he was a lunatic that had been laughed out of his field, yet he also spoke of him with praise for sticking his ideals in the face of persecution. Her instructor had used Jackson as an example of when not to stick to one's guns on an issue.

"Melissa." She answered him simply.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Melissa. Major Sumner, if you need anything, let me or Jack know."

"I will, thanks Doctor J."

The two men walked out of the door, and Melissa was surprised at the easy feeling of friendship she felt between her mother and Daniel Jackson. She didn't know the other man beyond that she had seen him at some point with her dad, but she didn't think much of it. At least not until she asked her mother about the two men.

"You know that crazy guy? You work with him?"

"Why do you think he's crazy?"

"Mr. Reynolds, my Senior year World History instructor knew him. Called him a lunatic for claiming the pyramids were landing sites for aliens. A guy would have to be nuts to say something like that. He works with you?"

"A lot can be said for Doctor Daniel Jackson, but crazy isn't one of those things. I've seen that man risk his life to save others. I owe him. A lot."

"What, money?"

"No. Something far more precious than money."

"What do you owe him, Mom?"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I can't tell you. It's classified. I've said too much already."

"And the tall silent guy with him was what? His bodyguard?"

"I'll have to tell him you said that. Jack had a bad case of laryngitis, otherwise he would have said something."

"Jack?"

"General Jack O'Neill, the base commander at the Mountain, and my Commanding Officer."

"I saw him once with Dad."

"He's known you're dad for a long time. They were both in the war in '91."

"Oh."

Melissa had been about to say something else, but her head started to really hurt at that point. As quickly as the pain had come on, it left her, and she could suddenly hear a conversation in her head!

"_Awake human_!"

_"What do you want with me?"_

_"What I want."_

_"Like I said to your Keeper, go to hell!"_

_"What is 'Hell'? Hmm, this is interesting."_

_"What's interesting?"_

_"This stone, Where did you get it? It is a Lantean telepathic device and far beyond your pathetic understanding of the mind."_

_"I got it at a yard sale."_

_"I have studied Lantean technology for thousands of your years and I had yet to understand this stone, until now."_

_"My people are looking for me."_

_"They are not. They believe you to be dead. They have survived three years without you rather well, I believe"_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"The person who shot you and left you for dead? Our intelligence has revealed that he assumed command of Atlantis. Once that I have completed my examinations of you and this stone, my warriors wil escort you to your quarters."_

Melissa didn't know what was going on, just that she could hear her father in her head! She didn't know why, just that she could. She had heard an entire conversation between her father, and some other person. She had no way of knowing that it was an Alien! But now, she could not only hear her father when he spoke, but also his thoughts. She tried to 'think' to him, but it seemed she couldn't. She didn't know why, but she planned on finding out!

Unbeknownst to her, the Wraith scientist was attempting to shut down the telepathic link with no success. Apparently, once activated, only an Ancient, or a Lantean could deactivate the device.

She sees images, through her father's eyes, that make no sense to her. Small ships flying past a star filled window, and flying down to a planet. Some time later, she sees more of the same type of ship as it flies past the 'window' again. Then she feels a slight movement. She has no idea what is happening to her. But her father has an idea. The ship has entered Hyperspace, though he has no way of knowing the destination.

* * *

VIP Cell

Colonel Marshall Sumner stared out the window without seeing the magnificent view that few would ever have the privilege to partake of; a deep, rich blackness with a few scattered pinpricks of light that could possibly be a distant galaxy. He was deep in thought, examining the twists and turns of his life that had brought him to this point. He clearly remembered the bullet that had ended his misery. Misery because of the Keeper. Whatever she had done to him, he'd felt the very force of his body leaving him, almost as if she were some sort of vampire feeding on his soul. Had he been able to take his own life, he would have decidedly done so. He was grateful to whoever had pulled the trigger and sent that bullet that had ended his life. Even now, as he stood breathing and thinking, he was grateful to that person because he had tried to keep Marshall out of enemy hands. He would have done the same thing, had the positions been reversed.

His thoughts turned to his wife and daughter, a full galaxy away. He remembered the evening before he shipped out for Atlantis. The quiet meal at home; a final home-cooked meal before his departure. He remembered his daughter giving him the red crystal that she'd had mounted on a thick titanium chain. A good luck charm, she'd called it. He'd put it on that night, and had worn it when he stepped foot in Atlantis. As he thought more on it, the mere fact that the Wraith had been so interested in it, was probably one of the things that had kept him alive. That, and the location of Earth. He felt and heard the Wraith come up behind him.

"Deep thoughts, Human?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Thoughts of home? Your family?"

"Yes. Do you have these things? A home? A family?"

"My home is on this ship. It is where I was born. My fellow Wraith are my family. We do not have the same ideas of 'Home' or 'Family', but it is similar in some respects. It is not something I will ever understand of you Humans, but I suppose I could empathize."

"I don't need your pity!"

"No? Perhaps a shuttle instead?"

"What?"

"A shuttle. I am allowing you to leave, Human."

"Why?"

"In the years since the Keeper died, in the years that I have studied you, I have become aware of a deep respect for you. We can never be friends, you and I. We will always be enemies. In a survival situation, I would feed off of you. What I feel is something akin to what you might feel for a respected enemy. An enemy I would rather see grow to an old age, than be fed upon by my fellows."

"Where would I go?"

"These coordinates are to a structure that has shown up on my instruments. It is approximately ten thousand light years distant. The shuttle could have you there in perhaps three of your months."

"How am I supposed to survive for three months?"

"While we Wraith do not eat food such as you might, we have on occasion captured food stocks to feed or prisoners. I can not attest to the palatability of the rations I have had placed in your shuttle, but it will sustain you."

"You could come with me. I would be willing to vouch for you."

"No. It is better that I stay here. You will need someone to cover your tracks, as it were."

"I don't fully trust you, but I have to take the chance. I hope you understand why I'm doing this."

The Wraith had turned its back to Marshall and Marshall took advantage of that fact as he brought his hands down, edges of the palm first, into what on a Human would be a pair of nerve clusters to either side of the neck. Whether the Wraith shared those clusters or not, didn't matter, because the strike worked as designed, and the Wraith scientist crashed to the floor, unconscious.

All those times that his guards had brought him from this cell to the labs, Marshall had studied the layout, memorizing every twist and turn until he felt he could run the same route in his sleep. A route that he knew brought him by the hangar spaces. He gathered what few things he'd managed to salvage from his personal belongings. He remembered asking the scientist on several occasions for these items, and he remembered all too well having the scientist give them to him, one at a time, as a sort of reward for bits of information given out.

Who cared that the Wraith believed the Emperor of Earth to be 'Mickey Mouse'? Who cared if they believed that Earth had an artificial satellite called a 'Death Star' to safeguard the planet from the dangers lurking in space? Who cared that he had revealed the existence of an army of ten million ground forces, and a defense fleet of hundreds of ships? Certainly he didn't care about the lies, but the Wraith did. Already they were preparing to meet Mickey Mouse, and devising ways to defend against the Death Star. And all the while, Sumner laughed only in his mind. Who cared? He certainly didn't.

The items he had obtained over the weeks and months of a patiently created, and uniquely creative set of untruths and flat out, bold faced lies, were safely tucked into a small bag. He wouldn't stand a chance against any of the Wraith foot soldiers with only a knife, but the survival gear was a different story. Three months in a small shuttle? He'd go nuts. No. his first plan had him setting down on some uninhabited world, and getting some real food, then setting course for the artifact. Which, though the Wraith might not have recognized, it bore a certain resemblance to a Stargate, albeit a massive one.

* * *

StarGate Command  
Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
1200 Zulu (0500 Local)

Sergeant Harriman read the fax that had come through only seconds ago via the encrypted fax. He had read it twice, yet still couldn't believe what it was telling him. ran up to General Landry's office and knocked on the open door.

"Yes Walter?"

"Sir, we've just received a fax from Peterson Air Force base, sir."

"What does it say?"

"Lt. Colonel Masterson was approached by a young woman, a Melissa Sumner, who wants to press charges against Lt. Colonel John Sheppard for the murder of her father."

"What? Say that again, pleases Walter?"

"Lt. Colonel Masterson rejected her case due to a lack of evidence, and some question of jurisdiction."

"Walter, Get Colonel Reiko Sumner in here!"

"Yes sir!"

To be Continue


	3. Chapter 2

Seeking Judgment

Chapter Two

Sumner Residence  
Colorado Springs, Co

Melissa parked her SUV in the driveway alongside her mother's sedan. She hadn't expected her mother to be home this early, yet she was. She was still in her car when she saw her mother standing on the front porch. She looked angry. Melissa had done only one thing today, and that was talk to the JAG at Peterson AFB.

"Mom? What's wrong?" Melissa asked her mother.

"Melissa Katherine Sumner! Get in the house, NOW!" Reiko raised her voice and pointed to the door. She hated yelling at her daughter; generally, the only time she raised her voice was when she dealt with the troops under her command, and even then it was usually under the worst of circumstances.

She had been on the Odyssey, enroute to the Midway station for an inspection tour of the defenses there, when she'd been notified of the incident with her daughter. Odyssey had stayed at the Midway station and she had gated back to Earth, arriving in time to be roasted alive by General Hank Landry.

_'She yelled at me.' _Melissa thought. _'She only says my full name when I've done something really, really bad.' _"What did I do?" Melissa asked her mother as she walked up to the front door.

"You know damn well what you did, young lady!" Her mother said as she held the door open for her daughter. "You went to the Air Force JAG at Peterson and tried to file charges against Colonel Sheppard for the murder of your father!! What in God's name were you thinking!"

Melissa stood at the door with her arms crossed. "He did it and he needs to be punished for doing it!"

"Do you realize that I was on a mission? I had to be recalled because of you! My own daughter! Do you know that I had to promise General Landry that you would stop this insane attempt to have an innocent man prosecuted!"

"Why should I drop it?" Melissa repeated. "I have the proof that he killed him."

Reiko nodded her head and let out a sigh. She knew the full truth about the incident. A Wraith had drained her husband of his life energy. John Sheppard did exactly what she would have done; end Marshall Sumner's suffering. "Stop it! Do you realize what you're doing? Not everyone knows what I do or what your father did for his country, hell, for his planet. If you insist on this insane course of action, the Air Force will find cause to lock you up for violations of the National Security Act! Melissa, that's the same thing as treason! I've lost a husband already. I don't want to lose you too!" Reiko raised her voice again only to see tears running down her daughter's cheeks. "Consider yourself grounded!"

"You can't do that!" Melissa raised her voice.

"Yes I can, go to your room. NOW!"

"I won't." Melissa backed away from her mother, went out the door, and ran to her car and drove off.

* * *

Present  
The White House

President Hayes had been rather busy of late dealing with the IOA, and their most recent in a long line of demands. They wanted to station a full time representative at the Midway station, along with a security detachment. But for the life of him, Henry Hayes couldn't figure out why they would want someone out there. He was saved from further thought on the issue, when the intercom rang and his secretary spoke.

"Mr. President."

"Yes, Heidi?"

"General Galloway is here to see you sir."

"Let him in."

"Yes sir."

General Galloway entered the oval office carrying classified files. Galloway had recently been appointed to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and was the current Chief of Staff of the Air Force.

"General Galloway, how can I help you?" President Hayes asked.

"Sir, a request from General Gordon Cresswell at the Naval JAG Office, has come to my attention."

"What about?"

"He has requested the file of one Lt. Colonel John Sheppard."

"Why would he request that file?"

"Apparently, someone wants to file murder charges against Lt. Colonel Sheppard. A Melissa Sumner, wants to file charges on behalf of her deceased father. She claims that Colonel Sheppard killed her father."

"I thought he died at the hands of a Wraith."

"A Wraith Keeper drained him of nearly all of his life force, but it was Colonel Sheppard that fired a mercy shot, killing him instantly. Hell, sir, I would have done the same in those circumstances."

"How does she know about the circumstances surrounding his death? Has security been compromised?"

"No sir, not to my knowledge."

"I'll call the Secretary of Defense. I want those charges dropped immediately, if not sooner!"

"Sir!"

JAG Headquarters  
Falls Church, Virginia  
0800 Local

Colonel Sarah McKenzie stepped out of the elevator along with two Air Force officers and a Japanese American Marine officer. Sarah wondered for a brief moment, why two Air Force officers would be in the building. She'd never seen the Marine before, or the unit patch on her shoulder. They were looking around until Colonel McKenzie approached them.

"May I help you?" McKenzie asked.

"We're looking for General Gordon Cresswell."

"Right this way." McKenzie escorts them to Tiner. "Tiner? Is the General available?"

Tiner stood up and saluted. "Yes ma'am, but he is in a meeting."

The Marine officer ignored the Petty Officer's response and charged into the office. It caught Melissa by surprise to see her mother there, but not the General.

"Reiko, glad you could make it." General Cresswell stood and gave her a hug.

"Mom, how did you find me?" Melissa asked as she stood up and confronted her mother.

"Your Uncle Gordie emailed me that you had a meeting scheduled with him for this morning." Reiko responded to Melissa's question.

Melissa turned an angry look towards her Uncle. "You betrayed me."

"No, I didn't. But when my boss calls me and tells me to drop this case because there are matters of national security at stake, I drop the case." Cresswell said.

* * *

Outer Edge of the Milky Way  
SGC Subspace Relay Station

Major Thomas Riley hit the klaxon immediately after sensors detected a Wraith hive ship as it exited hyperspace and entered a stable orbit around the planet. One could not call the people of Earth inexperienced when it came to building bases. They'd taken a page from the Alpha Site, and built this base into a mountain as well. And they'd seeded the approaches to the planet with Asgard-designed Orbital Weapons Platforms. The base itself had surface to orbit missile launchers, along side heavy caliber rail guns, and anti-air rail gun emplacements dotted the surrounding landscape.

Colonel Giles entered the command center. "Report!"

"Sir, sensors detected a Wraith Hive ship as it dropped out of hyperspace and entered into a stable orbit."

"Wraith? The life sucking aliens?"

"Yes sir, them would be the ones, sir."

"Alert the SGC, and apprise them of our situation. Arm all weapons, and prepare to return fire."

"Weapons armed sir, but we can't dial the gate. Something is preventing us from doing so. The Wraith are also jamming all subspace frequencies. Sir! The Ship is powering up weapons! We're being painted, sir!"

"Return the favor, Major. Target them with everything we've got!"

Hive Ship

The Wraith Scientist worked furiously as the ship came out of hyperspace and entered into a stable orbit. Their sensors detected life signs on the planet below, and satellites in the system.

"Have you found something useful to us? Asked the Queen.

"We are being scanned, and several satellites have locked onto our vessel."

"Can you locate the command center for those satellites?"

"Already done, my Queen. The control signals emanate from a mountain on the northern continent."

"Fire all weapons at that mountain." The Queen ordered.

In the mountain on the planet below, Major Riley noticed the spike in the ship's energies, and saw the bolts of light lance downward. He wasted no time in sending up their response. The twin heavy caliber rail guns, that could reach up into space from the surface, fired projectiles that were six inches across, and tipped with high explosives and weapons grade naquadah. Six inch shots raced upwards into the night sky, as bolts of energy rained down upon the base. For the moment, both sides appeared evenly matched.


	4. Chapter 3

_A/N: With much anticipation, have a merry merry Christmas and enjoy the gift that's been uploaded to you. I hope you like the chapter. I had fun writing it and a lot of work by Expatriated Texan. _

Chapter Three

**SGC Station Echo,  
Outer Edge of the Milky Way**

Those inside the mountain base had barely recovered from the surprise of seeing a Wraith Hive ship than the first blast from the Wraith ships' weapons struck nearby. The shields went up an instant after the blast, and the subsequent hits struck the shield or near enough to it.

"Report!"

"Shields holding at ninety-four percent, but dropping steadily with each blast!"

"Calm yourself, Captain McDougal. Let's do this one by the numbers. Weps, spool up your guns and switch them to automatic. EWO, jam the shit out of that ship! I want them blind, and mute! And get the squadrons prepped. Anti-ship missiles."

Energy bolts from the Wraith Hive ship continued to rain down on and around the mountain, causing the shield to drop at a steady rate. The head of the engineering section saw this, and routed more power to the shields, shoring them up. The mountain shook from the near misses, and inside, the personnel held on to whatever they could as the massive shockwaves passed them by. Like the SGC and NORAD on Earth, this command center was also built on a layer of giant springs to minimize the shaking motions of a shockwave.

"Contact the Southern Polar Base. Launch the buoys and have them transmit immediately into subspace."

"Colonel? What about the ships in yard?"

"Not much we can do about them with their crews still on Earth. Riley, get our reserve personnel over to the yards via the ring room. Have them split up between the ships and then to bug out of here. SGC will need a live report, more than two dead ships."

"Aye sir. Who will command the reserve contingent sir?"

"Who's senior among the reserves?"

"2nd Lieutenant Avery Wilkins, sir. Transferred in last week from the Snake Skinners."

"Get him up here!"

Rather than commit all of the forces into one base on this outpost world, the SGC, and the IOA member nations had agreed to build several outposts, linked via Ring Rooms, to a centralized Command Bunker. The Fighter base was located at least four thousand miles away, in another mountain range, with hangar opening cut into the mountains themselves. There were bases at both poles of the planet, but the IOA had insisted that only the southern base would be able to launch the distress buoys. And on the opposite side of the planet, were the shipyards, buried beneath a vast forest. Two bays had been completed, with four more under construction. And those two bays held ships, that were complete in every way, shape, and form, down to the loading of supplies and munitions. But their crews were still on Earth, undergoing training.

Fighter Operations

The alarm rang throughout the base, echoing a bit in the tunnels of the mountain complex. The lights flashed, and red beacons blazed to life, so that even someone who couldn't hear the sirens, could see the flashing lights and the strobes of red beacons. One of the pilots, Lt. Kim Everett, sprang from bunk at the first hint of the siren, and jammed her feet into her flight boots. There had been so many practice alerts of late, that the squadron pilots had decided to sleep in their flight suits. She ran into the corridor and fell into a comfortable jog alongside her RIO, 2nd Lieutenant Isamu Yamamoto. Isamu's great-grand-father had been an Admiral in the Japanese Imperial Navy, and the one who had led the attack on Pearl Harbor. Japan was a recent addition to the IOA, having been brought in for their technical abilities, more than anything else. The two of them joined the other pilots of the two squadrons quartered at Station Echo in the squadron ready room for the briefing that promised to be short.

"Alright people, listen up. Approximately eight minutes ago, a single Wraith Hive ship jumped into the system. They are giving the Command Bunker all kinds of hell. We need to take out that Hive ship before it can call its friends over to join the party. If the situation becomes untenable, we will launch the ships in the yard, and you will land on those ships and return to Earth! Am I clear?"

"CLEAR, sir!"

"Leopards launch first, with Black Knights on strip alert."

The pilots and RIOs of Leopard squadron raced to their planes. The pilots did their customary walk-around while the RIOs pulled the streamers on the weapons. The act of pulling the streamers deactivated the safeties on the weapons, making them 'hot'. In actuality, there were other safeties that had to be released before the weapon could detonate, but the streamers had to be removed before the plane left the ground, otherwise removing all the other safeties wouldn't amount to much. Plane captains are moving their aircraft into position for launch, and two by two, the planes of Leopard squadron took the active strips assigned to their flight.

The mountain base for Fighter Operations had been carved out of the rock using a judicious amount of explosives, and plasma cutting tools, to melt the rock. The combination of technologies meant three months construction time, versus an estimated five years using more common methods. Each squadron had three dedicated launch strips assigned to it, along with a general recovery strip. This meant that a squadron could get six birds into the air during a launch, and that the three elements of a squadron could be airborne within minutes.

**Wraith Hive**

"Report." The Queen said.

The scientist read the sensor readout and noticed that a shield was protecting the base. "It's impossible", he said under his breath. All of sudden the ship shook violently and he held on to the console and made his report to his Queen

"Hull breach near the port stasis chamber. Automated systems responding."

The Queen watched the planet from the misty screen in her Command Center and growled.

"Contact other hives, this new galaxy will be our new feeding ground." She smiled as she licked her teeth. "We will make this planet our beachhead."

"Is that wise my Queen?" The Scientist questioned.

"You dare question my orders?" The young queen snarled at the scientist and remembers the last Wraith commander who questioned her orders. Then she sensed the scientist was hiding a thought from her. "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing my Queen," The Wraith scientist stated. "Just the very thought of you as the Matriarch of the United Wraith once we conquer this planet."

"No, that's not it."

"My Queen, fighters are coming up from the planet's surface. There are Lantean ships among the fighters." One of the Wraith CIC crew alerted the Queen, interrupting the inquest on the scientist.

"We've come to the right place, launch fighters to intercept them." The Queen walked back to her throne and barked more orders. "Prepare our warriors to take their command center by force, and allow them to do whatever they want with their food."

"Yes my Queen."

18 F-302 fighters, and two Lantean Jumpers streak towards the Hive ship. The Jumpers were acting as Command and Control units for the fighter squadrons, along with lending longer range fire support in the form of their Drone launchers.

"Leopards! Darts incoming!"

"Jumper 2 to base. Launch Black Knights! And 3 and 4!"

The Black Knights squadron took to their active strips and launched, while Jumpers 3 and 4 took off from the general strip, and lifted straight into space, to lend their fire support to the fighters already engaging the Darts.

Two squadrons. Thirty-six human built fighters against more than three hundred Darts. 'It just didn't seem fair', thought Yamamoto. At least to the Wraith. Sudden calls of 'Fox 3!' filled the radio waves as thirty-six long range missiles streaked towards their targets. About five seconds later, a second call of 'Fox 3!' sent another thirty-six missiles towards their targets. Twice more, the pilots of Leopard and Black Knights squadrons called out 'Fox 3!', until they had fully expended their long range weapons. They'd fired the initial volley as the range between the two groups of fighters dropped to two hundred kilometers, which was well inside the engagement envelope of the four hundred kilometer range of the R-172 Novator missile.

Despite the fact that several Darts fell in the first wave of missiles, the Wraith pressed on to the human built fighters. They had the benefit of numbers of their side, and the knowledge that more Hive ships were on their way. Another wave of missile hits prompted the Hive Queen to order the launch of the six cruisers aboard the Hive ship. The cruisers moved ahead of the Darts, and began intercepting the anti-aircraft missiles before the had a chance to hit their targets. The amount of strikes on darts began to fall to zero.

As the range between combatants closed to seventy kilometers, the decision was made by the flight leads, to mass fire their heat seeker missiles. The orders were passed along the line of fighters and calls of 'Fox 2! Fox 2!' filled the radio waves. The idea was to saturate the space around the Darts and the cruisers with so many missiles as to overwhelm their interceptor tactics. Two hundred and eighty-eight missiles left their launch rails headed for the enemy fighters. Less than half were intercepted before they could strike their targets, and in many instances, multiple missiles were targeting the same fighter, but the result after the mass salvo, was eighty three Darts killed. When added to the results from the previous long range engagements, the total kills racked up to about half of the initial number.

The squadrons broke into flights of six aircraft and began targeting the cruisers with their Hellfire missiles. Though the Hellfire had started out its life as an anti-tank weapon, it had proven itself time and again as a formidable anti-ship weapon. The various flight ripple fired their Hellfire missiles into the Wraith cruisers taking them out of the equation, and then turning their full attention toward the remaining Darts.

The Wraith fighters might not have had shields, but they were armored. Of course, when it came to particle weapons, the armor didn't matter much. The wingtip cannons of the F-302 fighters of Leopard and Black Knights squadrons had recently undergone an upgrade. The particle cannon that then Captain Samantha Carter had used to rescue a trapped Colonel O'Neill on Edora had been refined and adapted for use as fighter weapon. The two squadrons at Echo Station were the test beds for the particle beam weapons.

The Wraith hit by the particle beams, never knew what hit them as their Darts disintegrated around them and they felt their own bodies melting along with their ships. So far, it had been Wraith with zero kills and the Tau'ri with six cruisers killed and more than 200 Darts destroyed. The fighters continued their one-sided brawl, until there were no Darts left. Now they turned on the single Hive ship in orbit, one that had continued to rain down fire on the Command Bunker. The shields at the bunker were down to less than ten percent power when the fighters turned their attentions to the Hive ship. Four fighters. That's all it took. They fired off the wad of AGM-76 Falcon missiles in a pattern designed to completely envelope the target in the fires of a naquadah enhance nuclear hell. When the screen had cleared, the Hive ship was gone. The fighters began to return to the planet, and the Command Bunker called the system clear.

Fighters touched down on the strips assigned to them, and were quickly re-armed and prepped for immediate launches, should another Hive ship show up. At the Command Bunker, repairs began in earnest, and the shield began rebuilding to full strength. On the far side of the planet, the reserve crews stood down to yellow alert, and while they continued to check systems for a possible launch, they powered down the engines.

The residents of Station Echo had perhaps forty-five minutes of relative peace before the radar systems indicated a nightmare had appeared in the system. The buoy, still over the southern pole managed to record the emergence from hyperspace of more than a dozen Hive ships. The images of said emergence was the last thing it sent via sub-space before the buoy was destroyed.

'Station Echo is going to fall', thought Colonel Giles.

"Riley, get everyone over to the yards. Have the ships prepped for immediate launch. Order Fighter Ops to send all of their personnel over to the Yards. The same for the polar bases. McDougal, switch all systems to automatic. The fighters are to launch and hold a clear channel for the Cruisers to retreat, then they are to rendezvous at point Helo, for pickup by the Cruisers. Lastly, I need you to give me the keys. I'm going to arm the self-destructs."

"Yes sir."

"Roger that, sir."

This time, the fighters launched as quickly as they could and they didn't bother waiting for the distance to close to optimum firing points. They fired at max range, in one full salvo, hoping to keep the space near the planet clear for the two Daedalus class cruisers to evacuate with the personnel of Station Echo. Finally, as the fighters are closing the distance to use their guns, do they hear the command to jump. The Daedalus ships had cleared the atmosphere and had jumped to hyperspace to await them at the rendezvous point. Just before entry to hyperspace, the cruisers had each dropped a pair of surveillance satellites, low-powered units, that would hopefully remain intact long enough to indicate a direction for the Wraith fleet.

The fighters fired off their remaining ordinance, all of their Hellfire and Falcon missiles, hoping that the enemy fighters, cruisers, and Hive ships would honor the threat and try to intercept the weapons inbound towards them. The fighters then turned and jumped for hyperspace and the rendezvous point. Half of their number had been lost in the short engagement, destroyed outright by the heavy guns of the Wraith cruisers.

The last images the satellites recorded were explosions on the surface, and five Ha'taks exiting hyperspace.

Intelligence received from the Jaffa Free Nation later would reveal the Ha'taks belonged to the Lucian Alliance, and not to the JFN.

* * *

**24 hours later**

**Stargate Command  
Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
1300 Hrs Local**

Chief Master Sergeant Walter Harriman had been going over reports from the off world bases. Standard operating procedure dictated that all off-world facilities had to dial in to the SGC once every twenty-four hours to pass along daily paperwork. The exception to the rule was the Atlantis outpost, as the energy required to dial in was more than they could afford, particularly on a daily basis. Harriman's task wasn't so much to read the reports but to make sure that all of the bases had reported in. When he saw that Station Echo had failed its daily check-in, he notified the Officer of the Day, in this case was Major Erin Gant, late of the crew of the _Prometheus_. Her first order was to dial the Gate to Station Echo, but when they couldn't establish a lock, she ordered Chief Harriman to find General Landry.

Harriman ran up the stairs to the conference room where General Hank Landry was giving a welcome to the SGC speech, to a group of fresh recruits, both military and civilian.

"General Landry, sir."

"Yes Walter?"

General Landry could see the distress written on the face of his Chief Master Sergeant. He excused himself from the briefing and followed Walter into his adjacent office.

"Station Echo missed it's daily check-in. I informed Major Gant and she ordered the Gate dialed to Echo. Chevron Seven won't engage, sir."

"That's not good. Lead the way, Walter."

Just as they entered the control room, a series of alert tones brought their attention to the subspace communications console. Both men, and Major Gant, turned their attention to the incoming message.

"Sirs, it's the emergency buoy from Station Echo."

"Put it on the overhead, Walter."

"Yes, please do, Sgt. Harriman."

"Mr. Woolsey? When did you arrive?"

"Just now, General. I looked for you in the conference room, but one of your SF's told me I'd find you here."

Walter put it on speakers.

"Station Echo. We were attacked less than two hours ago by a single Wraith Hive ship. We repelled that attack, and earned a brief respite, before a large force jumped in to the system. We are evacuating Station Echo and setting self destruct."

"That's it, sirs. Message ends. "

**Hotel Washington  
Washington, D.C.  
1700 Hrs Local Time**

Melissa watched her mother unpack her suitcase as she stood near the door frame in the living room. She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. "Why can't I go home?" Ever since she disobeyed her mother, she had been staying in the hotel room until her mother's business in Washington was completed. Of course, it had to be the President himself who had invited her mother for a state dinner they were having for some visiting foreign dignitaries from Langara, Pangara and Tagrea along with one of their more advanced allies, the Hebridian.

"This is a formal dinner and I expect you to dress appropriately." Reiko had been hard on her since arriving in Washington just two days after the incident at JAG headquarters. She went to the bathroom and close the door behind her.

Still in her robe, Melissa sat on the sofa and fiddled with the remote. Instead of getting dressed for the dinner at the White House she decided instead to turn the television on and began to channel surf until someone knocked at the door.

"Mom, someone at the door!" Melissa shouted.

Reiko walked out of the bathroom and into the living room and saw that her daughter had not followed her instructions in regards to dressing for the dinner. "I told you to get dressed for the dinner young lady. You wouldn't want to keep the President waiting, right?"

"Fine." Melissa snapped at her mother and stomped her feet to the bedroom.

Reiko breathed a sigh of relief and looked up. "Lord, just a little help down here?"

She opened the door and to her surprise it was her brother-in-law and his wife, Gordon and Dora Cresswell.

"What are you guys doing here?" Reiko asked as she hugged them both.

"MOM! SHOULD I WEAR A GEORGETTE DRESS OR THE DONNA RICCO!" Melissa shouted.

"Well, the President invited us…" Mandy tried to continue but was interrupted by Reiko's cell phone and Melissa's constant shouting about what wear.

Reiko looked at the caller ID and knew she had to answer it; it was the SGC main line. She flipped the phone open and brought it to her ear, all the while bringing her in-laws into the room.

"Sumner." She answered, and did nothing else but listen, before abruptly closing the phone and looking over to her in-laws.

"Mom? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry honey, but someone at the Mountain needs me." Reiko gave her daughter a peck on the cheek and went into her room to change into something less formal.

"Can't the geeks at the Mountain handle anything without you?" Melissa asked.

"When did you become so sassy and disobedient?"

Melissa shrugged her shoulders and answered. "My professor told us to be disobedient to the establishment and to question the legality of it."

"Your professor is as dumb as a post and a pain in the ass." She headed to the door and looked back. "I'll have a chat with the dip shit, left-wing liberal nut job when we get home."

Melissa laughed and agreed with her mother.

"You will be going to the dinner with Uncle Gordie and Aunt Dora." She opened the door and took a step outside. She walked to the elevator and made sure no one else was in it. As soon as the elevator doors closed, she pressed the transmit button on her phone, and was engulfed in a brilliant white light before she disappeared into thin air.

Gordon Cresswell had been briefed in full a few hours earlier by the Secretary of Defense and by the Joint Chiefs, about his Colonel Marshal Sumner's torture at the hands of the Wraith, and the subsequent killing shot fired by then Major John Sheppard that ended Marshal's life. No matter how much he might have wanted to, he couldn't bring himself to tell his wife, Marshal's sister, about how he had really died. She wasn't cleared for it. 'Sometimes, clearance could be such a bitch' he thought.

"You all set pumpkin?" Gordon asked his niece.

Whatever had happened at the Mountain that had necessitated her Mother's recall was shortly forgotten as Melissa began to mix and mingle with the high powered crowd at the White House Dinner. They were still waiting on the President, and the visiting foreign dignitaries to make an appearance, but they couldn't know that they were in the bunker beneath the White House, in a conference call with the SGC over the incident at Echo.

Melissa, meanwhile, had found someone very interesting to speak with; The Chairwoman of the Senate's Judiciary Committee. The Faxon family had a long history of government service. Her own brother Joseph had been an up and coming Diplomatic office with the State Department when he'd mysteriously vanished during a diplomatic mission to Africa. He was listed as presumed killed, but no body had ever been found. When Judith had been approached to sit on the Judiciary Committee, she'd seen it as her chance to find out the truth about her brother. And while Senator Kinsey had never been completely truthful with her about her brother's killers, he did say that a certain Air Force program, called Stargate Command, had a lot to do with it. So when a college freshman named Melissa Sumner began chatting with her at the Dinner, she wanted nothing more than to escape to the bar. Until she heard the words no teenager should know; Stargate Command. Now, she was all ears.


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: Hope you enjoy the chapter. Please leave some feedback.

Chapter Four

**Lucian Alliance Fleet  
15 AU from Echo Station**

Naten was an unusual man. He had once been a First Prime to a minor Goa'uld in service to Sokar. When Sokar had been killed, something he had trouble believing in, after all, how could a God possibly be killed? From First Prime in command of a small-ish army of Jaffa that numbered about eight thousand, to an up and coming member of the Lucian Alliance.

Still, when his commander, Anateo, had tried to have Netan assassinated, he stood by his Commander. Furthermore, when Netan had sent Anateo on that fool's errand to capture the Tau'ri vessel Odyssey, it had been he, Naten, who had led the capture team. It elevated him in the eyes of Anateo, and in the eyes of those under his command.

Then, Anateo had fallen to the Tau'ri he'd stolen the Odyssey from, and Naten had been promoted in his place. Then he killed the bounty hunter that his former commander had sent after Netan. With the Alliance in disarray following the assassination of Netan, Naten had taken power. He still had a Council of Seconds, and they controlled their own territories, but they did so from his Ha'tak, communicating their orders and their desires to their Thirds, and each retaining a small contingent of Jaffa loyal to the individual Seconds.

Juko entered the peltac, summoned there mere moments ago by Naten. Juko had once been a member of Naten's personal guard, when he'd been a First Prime. Now, he served as his personal aide. Juko had many talents, but chief among them, was the uncanny ability to extract information from a prisoner.

"You summoned me?"

"I want you to listen to a message we intercepted. I want your counsel, old friend."

"… nder attack. Wraith jumped in and surprised us…Taking heavy fire but shields holding…Repeat, this is SGC Station Echo, we are under…"

"Who are these Wraiths?"

"I am told, by our new intelligence service, that the Wraith are a fearsome foe the Tau'ri encountered in another Galaxy! That they feed on their enemies, taking their life energy and turning young warriors into weakened husks of old men. They are without honor, and kill in the most terrifying manner."

"And they attack our enemy?"

"The Tau'ri is our enemy because Netan made them such. They will never be our equals, this much is true, but for such a backwards species, they did what no other could do; they defeated Anubis. They killed Apophis. They killed Ra, Hathor, Cronus, Seth, and Marduk. They killed Apophis' queen Amaunet. Anubis' favorite, Tanith, was killed by them. And when Imhotep tried to take control of the Jaffa Rebellion, he was killed in single combat by Teal'c; a member of the infamous SG-1. No old friend, it was Netan who started us along this path with the Tau'ri. We could become a great power in three galaxies, if we were to ally ourselves with them. Do you agree?"

"There is much wisdom in what you say, my friend. Even so, our forces are small and scattered, and we try to control too much as it is. How then, will we control three galaxies worth of planets?"

"By doing the same thing we have always done as an Alliance; we set ourselves up as traders, and we offer our mercenary services to those who can afford them. We make the Tau'ri dependant on our ships for their trade, we charge them a small fee for our services, they become more and more reliant on us, and then we will be able to seize control of the lion's share of the trade."

"Yes, I see the merit of your plans. My counsel then, old friend. Direct our ships to this Station Echo and render whatever assistance we can to the Tau'ri against their enemy. Call it an act of, oh what is that Tau'ri word? Ah, yes. An act of Contrition."

"Who shall we send?"

"Send Solek. He was Anateo's Second and he has too much ambition and to strong a desire for the old ways of the System Lords."

"See to it, Juko."

As it happened, Solek's Command fleet was nearby. He transferred from Naten's Ha'tak to his own and took command of the five ship flotilla. They crossed hyperspace at their highest speed emerging just in time to see the Tau'ri ships enter hyperspace on their own. The five ships of Solek's fleet cruised into the system; their weapons shooting at large pieces of debris that floated around the planet.

" Solek! Sensors read an energy build-up on the surface below! I would say the Tau'ri have activated several self-destruct devices!"

"So it would seem. Pull all ships back to the outer edge of the system. Make continuous scans and record everything!"

The five ships made a mini jump to the outer edge of the system just as the various Mark IX naquadah enhanced nuclear devices on the planetary surface of Station Echo reached zero. The ensuing waves of heat so intense as to rival a sun, melted all in their path and scrapped in an instant what had taken the SGC Corps of Engineers over a year and several tens of millions of dollars to build. The explosions also blanketed the system with intense waves of radiation, leaving the sensors on the flotilla momentarily blind.

It may have been a fluke, what caused the shields to fail no more than seconds after the radiation wave had passed, but it didn't matter to the Wraith attack ship that was closing with these new ships. Only one small attack shuttle had survived the devastation the human herd animals had been wrought upon their ships, but it would be enough. The Queen and her personal guard would need a new ship, and what better than one that had shields!

They entered the hangar bay silently, and the Queen deployed all but two of her personal guard to capture the vessel. Wraith warriors encounter few Jaffa on their way to the bridge, killing those few and hiding the bodies from discovery. They must not fail their Queen! It just happened to be Solek's command ship.

Within minutes, the Wraith had command of the ship, and it jumped to hyperspace without warning, on a course into the void between galaxies. The remaining four ships took note of the scans in the system, and jumped back to effect a rendezvous with Naten's Command Ha'tak.

* * *

**Carter-McKay Hyperspace Bridge  
SGC Midway Station**

The bridge had been initially conceived by then Lt. Colonel Samantha Carter, and by Dr. Rodney McKay as a way to shorten the time it took to send a ship from Earth to Atlantis. Seventeen gates on the Pegasus side, and seventeen more on the Milky Way side made the trip into a thirty minute rather than three week journey. One program controlled the Milky way side of things, and a separate program held things together on the Pegasus side, and at the mid point, lay the Midway Station, where travelers had to wait mere moments before gaining access to one side or the other.

The station itself had once been almost without armor or shields, or weapons of any sort, but that had changed when General Hank Landry had come to power. It now sported minimal shields and multiple missile launchers in anti-fighter roles. While true that the missile launchers were current Earth technology, it was also true that a lot of the more advanced races didn't expect something so primitive to be able to harm them. Sometimes, being considered primitive was an advantage.

Initially, the station was to have been fully automated, but with the Wraith war expanding, and the presence of the Ori in the Milky Way, a small crew contingent was assigned to the station on a full time basis, with new crews rotating in and out every six months or so. It gave the IOA a platform to perform a number of experiments, and gave the Tau'ri a place to experiment on the building of a large space station. The one NASA and her partners were building in Earth orbit would eventually be finished, but it was also completely obsolete before the first girder was placed into orbit. No defenses, no weapons, no shields, and a single three man lifeboat, that again had no defenses whatsoever. Sometimes the mere fact that something like the Stargate program was so very classified made for very humorous references to other Earthly projects. Especially the ones described as cutting edge or bleeding edge when it came to space technologies.

Airman First John Boer had the duty this afternoon, and yesterday afternoon, and tomorrow afternoon, and Hell, every afternoon since his arrival and until his departure. And like it had been for every afternoon since his arrival, there was nothing on the scopes. Of course, the theoretical limit on the scopes was a number that took an astronomer to appreciate, but as far as he was concerned, only the space out to five light years was of any real importance. His scope looked at the short range picture. Airman Randall had the mid-range picture with the range on his scope set between five light years and fifteen light years, and then there was Senior Airman O'Toole who had the scope that looked from fifteen light years to three hundred light years. And looking over their shoulders was Staff Sergeant Knowles whose business it was to keep them on their toes. So it should have been O'Toole who spotted the craft long before he did, but he missed it. Randall should have caught it too, but he missed it. But Boer didn't. He saw it big as life on his scope, well into his sensor grid, and he did what he was supposed to do; he called for his superior.

"Sergeant! Got a blip on my scope."

"Have you run it through the database?"

"Running it now. Sensors show Wraith hull materials, but no known configuration on file."

"Damn. Ok. Colonel Pryce to the Sensor room!"

"What have you got for me Sergeant?"

"Unknown target on short range scopes sir. Probable Wraith target, but no match with known Wraith ship configurations."

"Not good. Estimated speed of approach?"

"Just sort of drifting, sir."

"Estimated Time of Arrival?"

"Just over an hour sir."

" Comms, get me Atlantis. Tell them we need Jumper support on the double."

It was the one thing that Colonel Emerson Pryce, late of the Royal Air Force, had seen as a necessary addition to the station. Fighters. They just didn't have any as yet. The production lines back home were gearing up, but even with full production, it still meant that fighters were going first to the few fleet vessels Earth and the SGC had at their disposal. It would be a while until they received such fighter support. IOA and the SGC Command staff gave him an estimate of at least a year before he received the fighter squadron he'd requested. Besides, at the moment, they had only the one transient hangar space, and it was barely big enough for a Jumper let alone a squadron of fighters.

Approximately twenty-five minutes later, a pair of Jumpers exited the Gate Bridge from the Pegasus side and took up station keeping with Midway.

"Midway Station. Jumper-One calling. Heard you have a problem?"

"That you Sheppard?"

"In the flesh."

"Ugh. Not the image I want, Sheppard."

"Right. About that problem?"

"We've got an unidentified contact, possibly Wraith, closing slowly on the station. Target appeared to be adrift, until we saw it change course. Think you can make a pass and give us some better info?"

"Affirmative. Lorne, stay behind and watch the station. I'm moving in to check out the target."

"Watch your six, Colonel."

"Ok Rodney, what have we got on sensors?"

"Hull material matches known Wraith compositions. But it's not a Dart. If anything, I'd have to say it's a shuttle of some sort. I'd love to get my hands on it for a close up examination. It could reveal a lot about the Wraith and maybe give us a way to penetrate their armor."

"Anything else?"

"Wait one. Picking up a life sign now."

"Wraith? How many?"

"Just one. And it's Human?"

"Verify that!"

"Verified. Human."

"Attention unidentified Wraith vessel. Halt your movement and state your intentions or be fired upon. This will be your only warning."

"I never thought I'd be so happy to see an Atlantean Puddle Jumper! My name is Colonel Marshall Sumner, USMC, assigned to the Atlantis Expeditionary Group. I am unarmed and on a vessel I know next to nothing about. Are you receiving me?"

"Affirmative. Stand-by to be take under tow."

"Midway Station, did you copy all of that?"

"We did. Sumner's dead. Has been for years now."

"I know. I shot him myself. You better alert Atlantis and the SGC. We'll bring the ship in and I'll get a team to escort him to the infirmary."

"You do that."

"Colonel Pryce, message from the SGC. Apollo due in a few hours."

"Anything on our message though?"

"Confirmation of receipt, but no response, either from the SGC or Atlantis as yet."

"Keep me informed."

The Daedalus class cruiser Apollo had left Earth more than a week ago and was due to arrive at Midway Station for personnel exchange in mere hours. It was, in the mind of Colonel Pryce, a fortuitous event.

In the infirmary, stone-faced guards brought in the man claiming to be Marshall Sumner. The CMO for the station, a Doctor Yuri Popov, on loan to the IOA Midway Station from the Russian Army, had just finished drawing blood for the third round of tests, though the first two had already shown conclusively that the man in question was indeed, Marshall Sumner. Still it was best to be completely thorough, especially when the man in question had been declared dead some four years previously. Colonels Sheppard and Pryce were in the observation room overlooking the small infirmary.

"You knew the man, Sheppard. Is that him?"

"I knew him briefly. Just long enough to know that he didn't like me. But it sure as Hell looks like him. It can't be though. I saw him die."

"Well, he wouldn't be the first SGC member to resurrect, now would he?"

"No. There is a bit of precedence for that. But I thought it was kinda well reserved for SG-1."

"One would think so. I mean, Except for Teal'c I think the other three had all been declared dead at one point or another. And Hell, Dr. Jackson ascended twice! Twice! There's something about SG-1 that no team will ever be able to duplicate and that's there share of luck."

"You're team has been pretty lucky too, Sheppard."

"Yeah, but nowhere near as lucky as SG-1. I mean, yeah, we've gone up against the Wraith and survived, but they went up against the Ori and lived to tell the tale. I'd call that damned lucky."

"So what do we do about our guest then?"

"Caldwell is still at Atlantis with the Daedalus. I'm going to ask him to join us here. Daedalus can pick him up on the way back, after Apollo gets to Atlantis."

"Why Caldwell?"

"Apparently he and Sumner go way back. He was also part of the Board of Inquiry that looked into my shooting of Sumner."

"Ah. A vested interest then. Make the call, John."

Colonel Steven Caldwell arrived some fifteen to twenty minutes later and almost ran to the observation room over the infirmary. The man in the room below him sure as hell looked like his old friend. It even sounded like him. But only Steven would know the real Marshall from a fake planted by the Wraith. He looked at Sheppard, and then down at the gun in his holster. Sheppard nodded once, knowing full well that if the situation called for it, he could do it again. Caldwell stood outside of the infirmary door, listening to the argument coming from the room. If nothing else, it sure as Hell sounded like his old friend. He opened the door to find the man standing with his back to him, yelling at the doctor.

"… don't care what you do with the results! Just…"

"Just what?"

"Steven?"

"Colonel Steven Caldwell. And you are?"

"Right. I guess I'd do the same in your shoes. Marshall Sumner, Colonel, United States Marine Corps."

"Can you prove that? You see, our records indicate that Col. Marshall Sumner was killed in action over four years ago."

" Uhm, I got better? No. I know that won't work with you Steven. So how about 1991? That bring back any memories? You went down deep in Iraq, and my team came and got you out."

"Tell me about your wife Patty and your son."

"You know damn well my wife's name is Reiko! And unless Reiko was pregnant before I left on my last mission, I only have one child; a daughter named Melissa!"

"Yeah. That's the Marshall I know. All full of spitfire and acid. Damn man! Your funeral was nice! Now I'm going to have to take back all those nice things I said about you, even if they were lies."

"It's good to see you too Steven. Last I heard, you were up for command of a battlecruiser?"

"Yep. Daedalus. She's a fine ship. She's at Atlantis now, waiting for her replacement before coming here to pick you and me up for a trip home."

"Replacement? I guess I've missed a few years?"

"You could say that. I'll tell you all about it in debrief. Let's head to the galley, and get some coffee."

"What about my men?"

"Your former second is now in command of the military forces in Atlantis. He'll meet us in the galley."

The two men walked in silence towards the Galley, with Caldwell just slightly ahead of Sumner, showing him the way on this unfamiliar station. In their minds though, their thoughts raced. Caldwell had never been an overtly friendly sort, but the bond forged in the fires of the Liberation of Kuwait was one that would last a lifetime. It wasn't often that Marines and Air Force mixed so well together, but in the SGC that was the rule rather than the exception. All of the branches played well together, all of them recognizing that while inter-branch rivalries were to be expected, when it came down to the protection of Earth, rivalry went out the window.

Sumner's mind was torn between his recent death and subsequent resurrection at the hands of the Wraith, and the news that Sheppard, of all people, was now the military commander of Atlantis. He didn't think Sheppard had it in him to be a Commanding Officer.

"Colonel. Colonel. Coffee's fresh."

"Colonel."

"Colonel."

"Damn. Too many birds in here. What say we try names instead?"

"Always were the irreverent one, weren't you Sheppard?"

"I do try Sumner. It helps to get through life, especially in a war zone."

"War?"

"You remember the Wraith, yes?"

"I never forget a critter that drains the life of out me like a Vampire."

"We're at war with them. And with the Asurans. And the war ain't going well."

"But Atlantis is still there?"

"Oh yeah. Atlantis is still there. We've lost a lot of good men and women though. It's one of those things in war, I guess. Which reminds me, seeing as you two have been commanding officers a lot longer than I have, does it ever get any easier? The writing letters home to surviving family?"

"When it does get easier, Sheppard, it will mean you gotten to used to the death. That's a sure sign you either need professional help, or that it's time to retire."

"That's good to know."

"I can't believe you made junior bird, Sheppard."

"What can I say, the Promotions Board got it wrong ."

"They must have. How are my men doing?"

"There have been a lot of changes, sir. Lt Aiden Ford is listed as Missing in off-world action. Major Evan Lorne is my Second. Atlantis still has a civilian leader, but it has become more of a military expedition than a strictly civilian one. Especially after the Wraith attacked."

"But you pushed them back, right?"

"Sure did. With a bit of subterfuge and misdirection . We got them looking one way and then did something they didn't expect. For the moment, they think Atlantis is destroyed, and that we're fighting the war from another base."

"Sounds like you've done a decent enough job there, Sheppard."

"I'm trying to fill some mighty big shoes, Sumner."

"Marshall, you should know that Reiko got a promotion in your absence. She's the same rank as John is. She took your death hard, but, it seems that Melissa has taken it harder. She tried to file charges against Sheppard for your murder. She even went to see your old boss, Gordon Cresswell."

"She went to see her Uncle Gordie? Why him?"

"He's the Judge Advocate General. Has been since AJ retired."

"AJ finally retired? About time I'd say."

"Well, let's get you settled into some quarters. Daedalus will be along in about a week or so, unless you want to go home quicker?"

"What's a week after four years?"

"Ok. I'll get you the history of the last four years for you to look over."

White House

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue

Try as she might, Melissa simply couldn't escape the clutches of the Congresswoman she'd made the slip to about the SGC. She excused herself to go the bathroom, and went to find her Uncle Gordie instead.

"Something wrong?" Her uncle asked her with concern written across his face.

"That Congresswoman! She just won't stop asking me if I know anything about her brother!"

"Her brother? Why would she think you know her brother?"

"I asked her about looking into Dad's murder at the SGC. She took an immediate interest and started asking me about her brother. Who is her brother anyways? Some other schmuck that Sheppard killed?" She stated as she pointed out the Congresswoman seated at the bar.

"Damn. Judith Faxon." Gordon recalled. "Melissa, you signed that non-disclosure agreement in front of me! You shouldn't have mentioned anything about Stargate Command. That's treason! Stay here. I'll take care of the Congresswoman."

* * *

**Sol System  
One of the Inner Planets**

At the dawn of time on Earth, when giant dinosaurs ruled the lands, there arose a race of humans that would one day be called the Ancients. They lived for millions of years on the world they called Terre. They grew as a civilization, journeyed into space, and found it a cold and desolate place. They found some life, scattered here and there, but for the most part, the universe was an empty one. So they seeded life throughout the universe. And they setup outposts from which to observe this life.

They left, for a time, traveling to Pegasus, to duplicate their efforts there, but they encountered the Wraith. After a millennia long war, they sank their city beneath the waves of a planetary ocean, and returned to Terre. But they had brought something back with them. A plague. They were dying. Or, well, they thought they were dying. They had mistaken the sickness that preceded ascension for a plague. Even the Ancients weren't infallible.

In a desperate plea to all of their outposts, all of the Ancients returned home to Terre, to work on the plague, only to realize their folly. They Ascended. Gone were the needs of the corporeal bodies. They could stretch their energies and fly from one end of the universe to the other in a micro-second. Gone were the needs to feed, to sleep, to drink. Gone were the needs to feel emotion. Those that had Ascended, vowed to watch over their charges, but to never interfere. Interference in their primitive lives could lead to a premature awakening of their intellectual selves. Ascension was well and good for them, but they felt that none of their seed civilizations would be ready for such an event for at least a billion years.

Their outposts lay scattered across the universe, with advanced technologies just waiting to be found by others. Their magnificent devices were used by others for ill. And they cared not. Their wondrous inventions were used by others to enslave the universe, and they couldn't care less about the results of their carelessness. The Goa'uld came to power, and enslaved trillions, and abused the technology of the Ancients, and they were oblivious to it all.

Oblivious to the fact that their home world; Terre, had given rise to a second human civilization. Oblivious to the fact that there were untold numbers of Ancient influence on the fledgling civilizations. Legends of cities and men and women arose, surviving across time to a very modern Earth. The second human civilization on Terre was learning, or re-learning all of those wondrous sciences and technologies that had once belonged to their antecedents.

Oblivious to the fact that on one of those outpost worlds, a long forgotten experiment is about to rise again, It is an outpost world that the modern humans of Earth would find impossible to live on. Poisonous gases in the atmosphere, searing temperatures, free-flowing lava all over the surface. It wasn't a place that one could call home by any stretch of the imagination. Yet when the Ancients had been here last, the planet hadn't been like this. It had been in Earth orbit, as a naturally occurring satellite, but the Ancients had need of it closer into the system's primary, and so they had moved it. And built a base on it that derived its power from the geothermal and solar energy that was now overly abundant on this re-positioned world.

Two of the Ancients had called this planet their home for decades, though neither of them had known about the other. Both had worked in secret at different times in history, one of them creating a weapon to defeat the Wraith, and the other creating what one day would be called ZPMs by the second generation of Humans on Terre. Their two laboratories had been on opposite sides of the planet, surrounded by force fields of immense power. Shields that drew their power directly from the geothermal vents nearby.

It was an accident really. Eons ago, when the Ancients had left these two research outposts, they had shut down everything but the shields and minimal life support. But their arrogance would be their undoing. Everything controlled by a single switch. A switch activated by a rock falling and hitting the panel just so. What did it mean? It meant that after countless millennia, a power was once again beginning to stir.


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: The wonderful work of Expatriated Texan and I thank you. I hope you like this chapter and leave any feedback.

Chapter Five

**Stargate Command  
Cheyenne Mountain Complex**

It had been one of the benefits gleaned from the Asgard when they had given up all of their knowledge to the Tau'ri. Transporters. A set had been installed in a secured room at the SGC. A room lined with turreted Intars to stun anyone who beamed in without authorization. Such a thing was possible, at least in theory. The Transporter room had replaced the Ring Room in importance, but not in physical location. There was still a Ring Room in the mountain. It just wasn't used anymore as the distance was limited.

Reiko Sumner beamed into the transporter room and after verifying her credentials with the duty officer, proceeded to the elevator to and thence to General Landry's office. But the instant before she knocked, she heard voices coming from within, and rather than interrupt, she took a seat in his small waiting area, while Landry's aide announced her arrival. A moment later, the aide indicated she could enter.

"Ah, Colonel Sumner. Just the woman I needed to see." Landry called out as she entered his office.

"Colonel Reiko Sumner, reporting as ordered, sir!"

"At ease, Reiko. Have a seat. Coffee?"

"Yes sir, thank you sir."

"Walter!"

"Here you go Colonel. Black with honey."

One of these days, Landry was going to figure out just how Walter knew what he was going to ask of him before he asked it. It boggled the mind that his Chief Sergeant could know all the trivial things ahead of time. Like who wanted coffee, for instance.

One of these days, he was going to find out how he did things. But it wasn't anything special. A gift, handed down through the generations. If his grandfather had had a son rather than a daughter, his name would be O'Reilly rather than Harriman. At least his mother though of her dad well enough to name her son after her father.

"Colonel, I'd like you to meet Captain Doral, on loan to the SGC from the US Navy. He's been put in command of the _Fucanglong_, the ship you helped design.

Reiko nodded to him as she shook his hand. Reiko didn't like the idea of giving command of a new ship to a Swabbie. "Why does my ship have a Chinese designation?"

Call it an appeasement issue, Colonel. The Chinese were upset when we gave the Russians their very own Daedalus class cruiser. Of course, they were quietly thrilled when the ship was destroyed. With the new ship you've helped to design, the powers that be in the IOA have decided to offer the first new ship to the Chinese, the second the French, the third to the British, and the fourth to the Russians. The Japanese get dibs on the fifth vessel. This way, they can train up crews for the Daedalus class ships they're in line for. But that's not the issue at hand, Colonel. We've received a communiqué from Echo Station."

"Sir?"

"They came under attack by the Wraith and were forced to abandon the station. Loss of life is heavy. The survivors were on their way to Earth, but we've re-directed them to Anchorage Beta."

"Beta, sir? Isn't that near the McKay-Carter Bridge?"

"Yes. And that's where you're headed, aboard the _Fucanglong_. Since you were the principal designer, you get to be aboard during her maiden flight. Captain Doral's orders are to test the ship to the limits and to take you to Midway. You'll need this."

Landry pulled out a file containing classified documents and handed it to her.

Reiko looks confused while looking at her late husband's classified files. "Sir, why am I looking at my husband's files?"

"It seems that your husband's death might have been a bit of an exaggeration."

"Exaggeration? How much of an exaggeration?"

"I don't know all the details yet. Just that he appeared at Midway Station in a Wraith shuttle craft. Colonel Caldwell swears it's him, but I think you'd be the best judge of that. We've seen the Wraith do a lot of underhanded things, Colonel. It could be your husband, and then again it could be something altogether different."

"I see, sir. Permission to get my gear together sir?"

"Granted. When you're ready, escort Captain Doral to the transporter room. _Fucanglong_ is in orbit and awaiting your arrival. Oh and Colonel? Please remember that the entire crew has Chinese shadows. The Chinese want to learn, but the maiden voyage is an experienced SGC crew.

An hour later, the small scout ship, the prototype for a new class of what the Chinese crewmen were calling the Dragon class, but what Reiko called a heavy scout class, was on her way. The ship resembled the older Prometheus class, albeit without the hangars and about half the length of the Prometheus. But the weapons and shields were heavier, and it made the heavy scout something that could theoretically go toe-to-toe with a Wraith cruiser and come out alive. Where the hangars had been, there were two long cylinders with lots of pipes running over their surfaces. There were also four radiators that ran the length of the pipe sticking out, and looking like weird arms when viewed from the front.

It was a prototype. It wasn't supposed to be pretty. The radiators were there to drain away the excessive heat produced by the Asgard derived plasma beams. The beam weapons were meant for the Daedalus class. Not for this ship. There was a big concern that the first time the weapons were fired at full power, every electrical cable on the small ship would melt from the excessive heat and power. In her small cargo hold, there were spares for every system aboard, including the cabling. The hundred man crew knew their jobs. The hundred man crew that was there to learn meant just that much more help if something went wrong.

There two large guns at the nose of the ship. These were rail guns of a medium caliber, firing a six-inch diameter projectile. The tip of each shell was made of a trinium-titanium alloy that had been formed into a spear point, for ease of penetration. Behind that spear-point ten kilos of Composition Four, surrounding a three ounce ball of weapons grade naquadah. Upon detonation, the C4 would compress the naquadah into a thousandth of its former size, generating a tremendous amount of heat, similar to a fusion explosion. The size of the blast had a theoretical magnitude of approximately three tons of explosives, or six thousand pounds of C4. It would make for a hell of a blast, but only if they could work out the bugs in the power generation system that was intended to channel electrical energy to the coils of the twin rail guns.

There was one more weapons system that ran the length of the entire ship and protruded out the front by at least a foot. It was a reverse engineered Tollan heavy ion cannon. Again, the cannon was intended for a larger class of vessel, along with the rail guns. But, if these systems could work on something as small as a scout class ship, then it would mean a major breakthrough in miniaturization electronics for the Tau'ri.

"Helm, plot us a course to Midway, best speed."

"Aye, sir. Course plotted and awaiting your command."

"At your leisure, Mr. Oakley."

"Aye sir."

Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Warren Oakley was a graduate of the US Naval Academy at Annapolis. His goal in life had been to eventually command a ship. He'd studied tactics and stratagems. He'd written papers on the greatest naval commanders of the past wars, and he studies all those who lost as well, to learn from their mistakes. He was well on his way to a command, being on the fast track for promotion, when this opportunity had come up. Sure, they'd told him he'd be the Helm officer on a new prototype, they'd just neglected to mention that it would be a friggin' space ship! But still, there as no place he'd rather be than right here, right now, in this place, and on this ship. The controls were made for him and him alone.

Oakley eased the ship out of orbit and quickly moved the speed controls until they were zipping along in the solar system at one-fourth of light speed. As soon as they cleared the gravity well of the big gas giants, Oakley pressed the button that activated the Hyperdrive and, and, and nothing.

"Mr. Oakley? Any time you're ready."

"Sorry sir. Hyperdrive not responding."

"I see. Engineering, Bridge. Explain to me why we're not in Hyperspace?"

"We're working on it sir. Give me fifteen minutes!"

"You've got half that. Or else you're going to go outside and push!"

"Aye sir!"

Sure enough, about eight minutes later, the ship entered hyperspace and disappeared from Tau'ri sensors.

* * *

**White House  
1600 Pennsylvania Ave.**

Those attending the event in the Formal Ball room were oblivious to the events below them, in the White House situation Room. The President and the Ambassadors of various alien civilizations had been in the Situation Room for hours, ever since the message had come through from Station Echo about the Wraith attack. Such news was not at all well received. The likelihood that the Wraith had finally discovered a way to the Milky Way galaxy was too chancy to ignore. President Hayes, and the other members of the IOA were trying to work out a short-term alliance with the other representatives in the room. The only threat, up to this point, had been from the Ori. But if the choice was to become a slave to the Ori or become food for the Wraith, well it wasn't much of a choice really. The Tau'ri would never willingly become slaves. And they sure as hell didn't want to be served up on a platter as the main course. The question was which was the lesser of two evils?

"We have to disclose to the public about the threat posed by the Wraith!"

"Woolsey, you couldn't be that much of an ass, could you?"

"Mr. President?"

"You know what will happen if we tell the world that some alien vampires are coming to suck the life out of everyone? We'll be laughed out of office! It's like a plot right out of some C-list Hollywierd film. A really, really bad plot."

"What do you suggest, Mr. President?"

"I've had a chance to talk this over with the other heads of state. And for the first time, we are in agreement as to how to proceed. We're going to release the Bregman documentary. We're going to have full disclosure in carefully measured steps. The documentary will paint those men and women of the SGC as heroes. Genuine heroes. The sort of people that everyone can look up to, that everyone will want to emulate. After the documentary, we're going to hold a number of joint press conferences, and we're going to shower them with medals. Air Force Crosses by the dozen. Silver Stars by the bucketful. Knighthoods left and right. Order of St. Andrew and Hero of the Russian Federation for the Russian teams. Orders of Mao for the Chinese teams. Medals of Honor for those who've sacrificed everything in the name of freedom for the planet."

"Ah, you Americans. Such wonderful comedians. Surely sir, you are, 'pulling our legs'? That will bring the entire world into chaos." Russel Chapman, the British member of the IOA stated.

"The public is not ready and according to your approval rating, your people don't trust how you handle foreign affairs let alone interstellar affairs." Jean La Pierre, the French IOA representative said.

"That might be true Jean, but the point is, your President has already agreed with me, as has your PM, Mr. Chapman. So, despite what you might think about changing their minds, I'm afraid its too late for that particular tactic. Gentlemen, this is the right course of action at the right time. Station Echo was located at the edge of our galaxy. Even at full speed, my scientists tell me the Wraith can't possibly be here before at least three years, unless they get very lucky and capture someone who knows where Earth is. No, what we have to do here tonight is work out a basic working agreement.

"Ship building will have to remain under wraps for the moment, unless Hebridan, Galar, and Ardena would like to help us out a little?"

"Speak clearly, President Hayes, and tell us how we can help our Tau'ri friends?"

"We wish to build a space station and a set of ship yards in lunar orbit, but on the dark side facing away from Earth. Earth would also like to establish mine and refinery operations in the asteroid belt, so that we can hide production from the other less advanced nations of Earth. Particularly the ones that don't value life as highly as we do."

"Mr. President, the IOA has enough responsibilities without you adding space stations and ship yards to our area of oversight."

"Not once, Mr. La Pierre, did I say that the IOA would have oversight in regards to the stations or the shipyards. Quite frankly, I see a time when the IOA will no longer be needed. Like, after full disclosure, perhaps."

"Now I know sir, that you are not being serious with us!" stated Mr. Chapman with vehemence.

"Just watch me, Mr. Chapman."

* * *

**Independence Avenue  
Near 7th**

To say that Gordon Maxwell was disappointed with his niece would be to say that the Earth revolved around the Sun. It was simple. He was stone cold mad at her. She had signed that non-disclosure agreement in front of him and a number of witnesses. And then she had gone on to talk to some Senator about the SGC! He'd been driving around for nearly an hour, trying to get his head straight, and all under the pretense of showing Melissa the sights along the National Mall and the surrounding environs. He'd gone through Stanton Park and then through Lincoln Park and onto Independence Avenue in front RFK Stadium before coming back towards Melissa's hotel. And all that time, there'd been the same car in his rearview mirror.

A man like Gordon Cresswell didn't get to be a Major General without knowing a few things about pursuits, and he sure as hell didn't get to his position by being stupid. His wife was keeping Melissa entertained, and so at the next stop light, he sent a text message to the watch commander at the Marine Barracks at 8th and I street. His text ID would tell the watch commander that the message was serious.

The response came back quickly and it directed him to turn onto 8th street SE before turning again onto Pennsylvania Avenue, where the MPs would be waiting for him. But he never made it that far. A block shy of the interception point, the car behind him got suspicious and forced him to the side of the road. It just so happened that it was in front of the D Street Bar and Grill where Commander Harmon Rabb, Junior had been having a drink with an old friend. The screech of tires and the banging of metal brought Harm and the other sailors and marines in the bar out onto the street, but the gun fire forced them to hit the ground. Harm looked up in time to recognize the face of his boss the instant before the air bag deployed. Unfortunately it didn't deploy in time to save him from the cuts and bruises to his face.

There were men, dressed all in black, shooting into the air, and motioning for someone in the backseat to get out. Harm knew that his boss had been at the Whitehouse Dinner earlier that night with his wife and niece, and he guessed the gunmen were trying to get those exact two people out of the smashed SUV. Harm wasted no time in making his decision, asking his friend to watch his six while he took out the bad guys.

The gunmen were all facing away from him as he leaped up and charged into the fray, tackling the nearest gun-wielding thug to the ground and knocking him out. Rabb grabbed the gun that the man dropped and took quick aim, firing off several rounds in quick succession and watching as his targets dropped to the ground clutching various body parts. He didn't want to kill them, just take them out of the action. In the distance, behind him, he heard the screech of tires as other vehicles arrived on the scene, but in front of him, he knew only one thing; the gun had clicked on an empty magazine. He reached into the holster the man he'd tackled to the ground had on his shoulder and extracted a second magazine, dropped the empty one and replaced it all in one smooth motion.

His eyes were telling him the Marine MPs from the Barracks at 8th and I had responded pretty darn quickly to the situation and he was identifying himself to the Lance Corporal that seemed to be in charge of this squad, and lowering his gun all at the same time. Other Marines were policing up the wounded, and slapping restraints on them and calling for ambulances and the District Police. Then things seemed to slow down, and Harmon Rabb dropped to the ground, as his legs gave out under him. The adrenaline was wearing off and his friend was busily checking him over for wounds. But he was fine.

Rabb had gotten three of the thugs, including the one he'd tackled, while the bar owner, an ex-Marine, had taken out two more with single shotgun blasts. A second squad of Marine MPs were in pursuit of a vehicle that had left the scene at a high rate of speed, and they could be heard over the radios, calling in for backup from the District Police. Something had happened here. An attempted assassination? An attempted kidnapping? He didn't know what it was or how it concerned his boss, but he knew right then and there that he would see it through to the end.

Rabb walked over to where some of the other patrons of the bar had pulled the General out of his SUV and were beginning to tend to his cuts and scrapes. Cresswell seemed surprised to see him.

"Rabb? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing sir. I would've expected you to be at the White House, and not in front of my favorite bar. Who were those men, sir?"

"I have no idea Rabb. Who took them out?"

"I took three. Gunny Lavelle got two more. And from what I hear, the MPs from the Barracks are in pursuit of another."

"Gunny Lavelle? This is his place?"

"Yes sir."

"Remind me to thank the man for helping to save my wife and my niece."

"I'll do that sir. Ambulance is on the way. Do you have a preference in hospitals, sir?"

"Anyplace that you can secure, Commander. Ask the Marines for a temporary loan of personnel until you can make other arrangements. And call this number, ask for General Landry. Tell him Melissa Sumner was involved in an accident and where she's being taken too. He'll give you more instructions, Rabb."

"Right away sir!"

Rabb pulled his cell and made two calls, but the first wasn't to anyone named Landry.

"This is Jason."

"Tiner! Hope I didn't wake you."

"No sir. Not in bed yet, but almost. Something wrong sir? Why do I hear sirens?"

"Tiner, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to find the Gunny for me. Tell him The General's been involved in an accident. It looks like someone tried to kidnap his wife and niece."

"Are they alright, sir?"

"They're damned lucky to only have a few scratches. Can't say the same for the would be kidnappers."

"You need me to do anything else sir?"

"Make sure Sturgis and Mac know about the accident. I'm going to follow the ambulance to the hospital. And see what you can do about getting some Marine guards for the General and his family."

"I'm on it sir!"

A few minutes later, and after a lot of redirections to other extensions.

"Landry."

"Sir. My name is Commander Harmon Rabb of the Judge Advocate General's Corps. I'm calling on behalf of Major General Gordon Cresswell."

"Go on."

"Approximately thirty-five minutes ago, the General, along with his wife Dora and his niece Melissa Sumner, were returning to their hotel from a White House dinner when the General's SUV was run off the road. Several men attempted to kidnap the Generals' wife and niece. Were it not for the timely intervention of myself and several others here, the gunmen would have been successful. The General and his family are on their way to Georgetown Hospital."

"I see. What do you need from me, Commander?"

"The General is requesting assistance in securing his family, sir."

"Very good Commander. I'll have two of my best teams there within the hour. Will you be staying at the hospital?"

"At least until I can find Melissa Sumner's mother."

"Leave that to me, Commander. She is one of my officers."

* * *

**Near Station Echo**

The planet below them had several large craters where the SGC facilities had been. But that was of no concern to the Wraith. They had managed to capture one of the Ha'taks in orbit of this world. At the moment, her drones were feeding. And she had a prisoner to interrogate.

"What do you call yourself?"

"Solek."

"You will tell me what I wish to know, or you will die by my hand."

"What do you wish to know?"

"Where can I find the homeworld of the Humans? The ones that call themselves Tau'ri?"

"I do not know. I have never been to their homeworld."

"Then you are of no use to me."

Solek fully expected this creature to open fire with some sort of weapon, but when he saw it pull back its hand and then slam it onto his chest, he began to doubt that theory. When he felt his life's energies being drained from him, he began to fear.

"Wait! I have never been there, but I know someone that has! Please! Stop!"

The Queen waited a few minutes more, until Solek was very old and almost withered away before stopping.

"Tell me."

"I need to contact them on the Vo'cume."

"Do it!"

Solek thought he was being clever, using the ruse of the vo'cume. He thought she wouldn't know this. So he approached the bridge controls and keyed in a request for a silent self-destruct. Just as he pressed the last key, he felt the creature grab him again and he felt his life force draining away. And as he lay dying, he clearly heard her in his head.

"Foolish and pitiful. I am a Wraith Queen. I have the power to see in your mind. As I have taken your life force, so have I taken the codes needed to stop the self destruct. And I have taken the co-ordinates of your Lucian Alliance homeworld. Yes, there shall be much feeding!"


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Farrow-Marshall Building  
Bethesda, Maryland  
11:30 PM  
October 20, 2008**

The office was very nicely appointed. A grand desk made from oak. If one looked closely at the oak, one would be able to see the faintest of marks indicating the wood had been taken from some old ship. Definitely an antique. Then there was the glass inlaid into the desktop, that housed a very advanced plasma screen, that tied into a very advanced crystal based computer system. One of the perks of being Baal's number Two on Earth. Her name was Charlotte Mayfield and she was every inch the prim and proper corporate exec that she appeared to be. At the moment, she was well into her second hour on the treadmill, running at a steady pace, to keep herself fit. She told others that she was in training for the New York Marathon, but wanted she wanted was to have Baal notice her as something other than a good soldier.

The couches and chairs around the room were a rich dark brown leather. The bookshelf had many books that collectors would kill for, just to hold them one time. Leather bound copies of Sun Tzu and Niccolo Machiavelli. T.E. Lawrence alongside Erwin Rommel. Billy Mitchell, Flavius Arrianus Xenophon, Flavius Mauricius Tiberius, and D.H. Mahan. All the best known authors of books, old and new, that dealt with military strategy. She wanted to be more than just Baal's consort or even his First Prime. She wanted to be his Queen. And she wanted him to know how worthy of that title she was.

It wasn't like she didn't practice what she read. The building she was in for instance, had probably the best security system in the world, constantly monitored by a full time staff of the finest mercenaries money could buy. So when the door to her office opened, she knew it was someone that had already been thoroughly vetted by her handpicked security staff.

"Why Senator Faxon! How nice of you to visit me, and on such a nice evening as well. May I offer you something to drink? A little hemlock, perhaps?"

"What's that supposed to mean? I held up my side of the deal, Mayfield. I want my brother. You owe me the info."

"Ah, but my dear Senator, you failed in your assigned task. One of my agents is dead, and the others are currently the guests of the US Navy."

"What? How is that possible? I thought you said those men you hired were the very best at this sort of thing!"

"You said the party would be over and done with by 2200. Imagine my surprise at finding out that General Cresswell and his lovely wife and niece left the White House at a little past 2100? I wonder what could have happened to have caused them to leave early? It could have had anything at all to do with you, could it? Perhaps a casual mention of the SGC and your Gods damned brother!?"

"She brought it up first. I was merely ascertaining what she knew!"

"And you caused the mission to be moved up by an hour. I had two teams waiting for the good General. One at his home, and one that was supposed to have followed him discretely."

"But there will be other opportunities. You, on the other hand, have but one opportunity to correct this mistake."

"I thought we were clear, Mayfield. I do this little deed for you, and you wipe my markers clean! Lying bitch!"

"Come, come, dear Senator. Such a potty mouth! You really should learn how to gamble better, Senator. Otherwise, you might get into these messes again, I dare say. No, do this one little thing for me, and I will give you the information on your brother for free. And the slate will be wiped clean."

"Fine. What do you want?"

"It seems that the NID has been raiding some of our offices here in the States. The FBI, working with Interpol, has managed to raid several of our overseas locations. I have been reliably informed that several of my agents have been picked up and taken to a CIA operated vessel, where, I believe, they will be interrogated."

"And what does this have to do with me?"

"Why Senator Faxon, I would have thought you were much smarter than that! You are the Chair of the Senate's Judiciary Committee, are you not? And did not you Patron, deal old Robert, give you his spot on the Senate's Intelligence Oversight Committee?"

"You know damn well that I'm Chair of both committees!"

"Yes, I do. I want you to do whatever is necessary to get these raids stopped. It wouldn't do for one of my agents to break and name Farrow-Marshall as his employer, now would it? Because if I go down, you'll certainly go down with me. And if you go down, then that little matter of the escort-service made up of Congressional Interns will certainly come to light. Rather damaging to your career I'd say."

"I'll do what I can to limit the damage, but if they're raiding Trust offices, then you have a leak somewhere and it isn't me!"

"That is most certainly being looked into as we speak. Good evening, Senator. I trust you know the way out?"

Senator Faxon had not been gone but two minutes when an aide to Mayfield walked into her office from a side door.

"Ah, Reginald, just the man I was thinking of. Are your magic fingers available to me?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Why did you come in here, Reginald. Surely not just to offer me pleasure?"

"No ma'am. I have a situation update from the second field team."

"Proceed with the report."

"Of course. Team Two has learned from an inside source, that the General was suspicious of a vehicle that had followed him through one too many turns. The General contacted a friend of his, the Commandant of the Marine Barracks at 8th and I, and had him send a little help, just in case. Team One, deciding that they'd been made attempted to force the General off the road in the middle of a residential neighborhood. Unfortunately, it happened right in front of a bar and restaurant that was a favorite watering hole of the Navy and the Marines. Commander Harmon Rabb, one of the General's JAG lawyers, happened to be in that particular bar. Witness statements have him tackling one of the members of Team One, taking his gun, and taking out the other members of the team, shooting to wound and not kill. Team One's Leader died at the scene. Three members of Team One managed to get away for a brief period of time, but were eventually caught by the Marines and by the District Police. There was a brief exchange of gun-fire. They were shot. One died enroute to the hospital. One died on the table. The other is alive, but not expected to make it through the night."

"And the others?"

"They're in the brig."

"Damn. Get me leader for team two, in my office, as soon as possible!"

"Yes ma'am! Do you still want my magic touch?"

"Later. I expect you'll be able to stay the night again, is this correct Reginald?"

"Yes Ma'am!"

**One Hour Later  
Same Place**

"Team Two Lead reporting as ordered!"

"Be at ease. Have a seat. Coffee?"

"No, but thank you. I've had more than enough of that for one night."

"I need you to run one more op for me. Then you can take that retirement package at one of our off-world bases if you like."

"What's the job?"

"There are several parts to the operation. I need distractions at the holding facility so we can get Team One out of there. Same for the hospital. I leave the distractions up to you. Second, I want you to slip this into Senator Faxon's food."

"Poison? Won't it be noticed in an autopsy?"

"Quite astute of you, but no. It won't be noticed. It's a two-part agent. She can have lots of either part in her system with no ill effects, but just one drop, the size of a pencil point of the second agent, and the good Senator will have a massive coronary within an hour of ingestion."

"I see. So give her part one now, and part two if she fails?"

"Very good! I knew you had it in you."

"Anything else, ma'am?"

"Just one more thing. I want the General, his wife and niece, and that meddling lawyer. No gift wrapping is necessary. Grab them and put them in open cells at location Lima. Then leave them alone. Oh yes, leave them food and water, enough for, say, three months. We will have what we need by then. And if we don't, they'll starve and no one will be the wiser."

"You are cruel ma'am. Very cruel. You sure you were never a soldier?"

"Flattery, sir, will get you everywhere!"

A Short While Later

"Ah Reginald. You have more news?"

"Nothing important, I believe, but something that might be of interest. It seems that the SGC's Station Echo was attacked by the Wraith. The Station's personnel managed to get out, but only after destroying the base. There has been no word on the Wraith since then."

"This situation bears watching. Perhaps we could find something they want to encourage them to work for us?"

"They want food, ma'am. Us. We're the food. As much as I may not like certain individuals, I can't imagine giving them over to the Wraith. I may be bastard, but I'm not that bad!"

"I'll say. Come to bed, Reginald. I'm in serious need of a release of tension."

"Your wish is my command."

* * *

**National Naval Medical Center(NNMC)  
Bethesda, Maryland  
A few Hours Earlier**

Gordon Cresswell was a man in dire need of a smoke and a drink. But he couldn't here. Not in a hospital. Damned health nazi's. Always telling him what he could and couldn't do. They'd tried to take his wife and niece! He didn't know who 'they' were, but he vowed to see every last one of them in Leavenworth for their executions. He heard steps approaching him and turned around quickly, hoping that whoever it was, would be a friend. He'd had enough of enemies for the night. Sure enough, it was a friend. Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Perhaps one of the best snipers he'd ever had under his command. And now one of the best investigators in the NCIS.

"Gunny? What brings you out here?"

"I got a call from Harm. Said you might need some help."

"They tried to take my Dora! My Melissa!"

"Who, General? Who tried to take them?"

"That's what Harm is trying to find out. The survivors were taken to the Marine Brig at Quantico…"

That's the third time you've looked at your watch Probie. Expecting an important phone call? Publisher's Clearing House maybe?"

"If you really must know DiNozzo, I was out on a date. I had to leave in a hurry when you called me. I'm just waiting for her to call, to let me know she got home in one piece."

"You? On a date? Where'd you meet her? Some online game?"

"No actually. We met at my last book signing."

The two men continued their good natured bickering, like two brothers trying to one up each other, all the while walking up the hallway to where their boss was talking to an older gentlemen in the uniform of a Marine General. Both men wore what almost was considered a standard among federal law enforcement agencies; trench coats. As the senior of the two, Agent Tony DiNozzo carried a cup of strong black coffee in one hand, while the junior of the two, Agent Timothy McGee got stuck with carrying a tray with three coffees. Large, black and hot. That's what Gibbs had asked for as he told them to grab their gear and meet him at the NNMC.

Coming up behind them was a man in the uniform of an Air Force Lieutenant Colonel. A man who looked very serious about his work, and very angry to have been pulled away from it to handle whatever this was.

"Coffee, Boss?"

"General Cresswell, these are two of my agents, Tony DiNozzo and Timothy McGee. Agents, Major General Gordon Cresswell. The JAG."

"Pleasure to meet you Agents."

"DiNozzo, there's a crime scene in DC I want you all over. McGee, you stay here and keep an eye on the…Who the hell are you?"

"General Cresswell. I'm Lt. Colonel Paul Davis. General O'Neill sends his regards. He also asked me to check on you and your family and to inform you that this is now a matter for his department."

"Col. Davis, I'm agent Gibbs with the NCIS. Since it was a Marine Corps General that was attacked, I would think we have jurisdiction."

"Yes sir, normally you would. However this is a matter of national security and the JCS want General Cresswell and his family secured immediately. I've arranged for a helo to pick us up outside. I've also arranged for Dr. Carolyn Lam to take over as the physician on the case. She is meeting with the staff doctors to get your wife and niece released into our custody."

"You said General O'Neill?"

"Yes sir."

"Very good Colonel. Gibbs, call me in the morning. I want to know everything about the scene of the attempt. I'll be in good hands, Gibbs. I expect Colonel Davis knows a thing or two about VIPs."

"I do sir."

Senior Agent Gibbs had sent his two agents on to the scene of the attack, to pick up the evidence from the District Police. But he himself had stayed behind. There was something about this Air Force Colonel that set his teeth on edge. He just didn't know what it was. The Colonel didn't seem to mind that he had remained behind. Colonel Davis and General Cresswell took charge of the wheel chairs that the nursing staff wanted to use to wheel the two women out of the examination rooms and towards the waiting helicopter. A short time later, the helo lifted off the ground. Midway between the hospital and the destination, the pilot radioed a mayday call and then dove the helicopter into the ground and full speed, killing himself and spreading the plastic containers of the General and his family's DNA around the crash site.

Anyone who might have been looking up at the night sky at precisely the right moment, might have noticed the bright flash of light that lit up the passenger compartment just seconds before the helo nosed over and dove into the ground at full speed. But no one noticed.

**Across Town  
Apartment of Harmon Rabb**

He'd finally been let go by the police who questioned him extensively. Then he'd gone to get preliminary statements from the prisoners now at Quantico, but none of them had been at all forthcoming. He was waiting on the prints to establish their identities, but so far, he'd been unlucky in that department. By the time he was driving home, it was late and he was exhausted. Too exhausted to notice the strange car across the way from him. Too tired to notice that someone else was in his apartment. In fact he only noticed something was amiss when he heard a strange noise just mere seconds before his entire body felt like he'd stuck a wet finger into a live electrical source. He dropped to the ground without uttering a sound. A minute later, his apartment lit up with a bright flash of white light, and when it had faded, there was no trace of the lawyer whatsoever. The same bright flash of light repeated itself a few more times, and each time, there were no witnesses around to notice anything.

People would eventually notice their disappearances, but it would take a back seat to the mysterious explosions at the Marine Corps Brig at Quantico, and at the District Police station, that managed to cover up two very important items; that the prisoners in the brig had mysteriously disappeared just seconds before the explosions crumbled the building to the ground, killing several guards and other inmates in the process. At the District police station, people were too busy evacuating the building to notice something like the fact that it was just smoke coming out the various ducts, and no actual fire to produce that great a volume of smoke. Explosions that would be blamed on gas leaks by the NID.

* * *

**Location Lima**

The rooms were well appointed, considering that they were prison cells. There were no doors on the cell, but also there were no guards. In fact, when the first of the prisoners woke up, he couldn't find anyone else at all, other than the few people stuck there with him. Harmon Rabb Junior was in over his head. Way over his head. And where ever he was, for some reason, he couldn't get a signal on his cellular phone, which his captors had left on him, perhaps because they knew he wouldn't be able to dial out.

Rabb continued to look around, eventually finding Gibbs and the General in a cell just down the hall from him. They were just coming to when he walked into their rooms. Together the four of them set out to explore, to figure out where they were. It didn't take long before Gibbs was shouting for the others.

"Colonel Davis?"

"Do I know you?"

"Agent Gibbs. NCIS. We met just a short while ago at NNMC?"

"Wasn't me, Agent Gibbs."

"Well, if it wasn't you, Colonel Davis, then who in the hell was it?"

"General Cresswell. Damn. I guess they got to you too."

"They? Who's 'They'?"

"They, as in the Trust. I've been a prisoner of theirs for something close to six months now. All by myself here in this facility. And there's no way out. I've looked. And even if there were a way out, there's no way for us to get home."

"Why do you say that, Colonel?"

"Because we're in a prison cut into an asteroid, General."

"Oh."

To be Continue


	8. Chapter 7

Hope you enjoy this!

* * *

Chapter 7 

**Marine Corps Base Quantico  
Quantico, Virginia  
October 21, 2008  
06:30 AM**

The first thing that the two agents noticed was the heightened sense of alertness evidenced by the more than usual number of guards at the guard shack at the entrance to Quantico. As McGee tried to stifle a yawn, DiNozzo tried unsuccessfully to slap him on the back of the head, but McGee dropped his pen just in time to avoid the slap. Agent DiNozzo rolled down the window of his car and handed the guard their identification papers before asking what all the extra security was for.

"So what gives? What's with all the extra manpower?"

"Bomb threats, if you can believe it. Courier dropped off a note this morning for the Commandant. Don't know what it said, but all of sudden we're on Alert, and the MP's are evac'ing the Brig, the base hospital, the research center, hell, even the FBI and DEA training facilities. I don't know…."

It was as the nameless PFC was handing back their identification papers that the first bomb went off. The men at the guard shack instinctively ducked, as did McGee and DiNozzo in their vehicle. Then DiNozzo was off and driving towards the Brig. Regardless of the explosions, they had a duty to get to their prisoners. Behind them, the base entrance was going into a lockdown. In front of them, there was another explosion, this one larger and off to the side somewhere. But the one that got their attention, also rained down a smattering of small rocks and dust onto their vehicle, and made DiNozzo stop cold. Even from this distance, he knew. He knew that the last explosion had been the Brig.

They pulled up on a scene of barely controlled chaos. The building had been leveled. It took a lot of explosive power to level a building. That and a knowledge of engineering for the correct placement points to bring the building straight down and not have it topple off to one side. Whatever had brought it down, there wasn't anything larger than a small rock left. Everything had been pretty well pulverized. DiNozzo stopped a Sergeant that seemed to be in charge, and waved his ID at him.

"Sergeant! Where are the prisoners?"

"What? Who? Who the hell are you? You need to step away, sir. This is controlled area. I can't have civilians walking around!"

"Sergeant! I'm a federal agent. NCIS. Now, tell me what happened to the prisoners!"

"Dead. We'd just transferred them back after declaring the building safe. Not more than three minutes later, BOOM! And here we are!"

"Shit. Gibbs is not going to like this at all! Probie! You call HQ and get us some backup. Call the director and let her know what happened here, so she can open the right doors for us, just in case. I'll call the Boss."

But Gibbs didn't answer, and he didn't answer when McGee tried on his cell phone either. Both offered their help to the local troops, but they were just in the way. It would be some time before they or their forensics team could get access to the site, even with Director Sheppard running interference for them. McGee was trying to get a news station on the radio. He needed his morning news fix. He would admit it to no one, but he was a news junkie. What he heard, however, made his face go white.

"DiNozzo!"

"What is it Probie?"

"Radio. Listen to the radio."

"What? I don't have time to listen.."

"Shut up and listen to the damned radio!"

"Alright. Alright. Since you put it that way."

"…to recap for those just joining us, Virginia Highway Patrol responded to a report of a downed helicopter in the Loudon area only to find it was a downed military Black hawk. Military officials have no comment. But a report from the first officer at the scene says the loss of life is total, and that he could see remains scattered in the area…."

"Oh God. McGee? Wasn't Gibbs on a Black hawk with General Cresswell?"

"I saw them get on it at the hospital, along with the Pentagon guy."

"Call Ziva! Get her rolling out to that crash! We need to know for sure!"

"Tony, he's still not answering!"

"Calm down Probie. Let's do this like we're supposed to."

* * *

**NORAD  
Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Colorado**

Stargate Command might be the world's front line for an inter-stellar war, but NORAD still remained as the foremost tracking and command and control facility in the United States. With direct control over dozens of military satellites, ground search stations, and various airborne and space-borne search craft, the NORAD complex could quickly respond to any threat against Earth. And considering that anyone working at NORAD had to have a high level of security clearance, the addition of space-borne assets to their retinue of surveillance tools was no big leap. Should the worst occur and something breach the atmosphere, something hostile, NORAD could call up the services of fighters located around the globe for intercept missions. Of course, the fighter squadrons at the top of the list were those based at Peterson AFB, and at Area 51.

For Staff Sergeant Pedro Alejandro Martinez-Garcia, the job of monitoring near Earth space for cloaked vessels was something out of one of those sci-fi books he used to read as a kid. He had been thrilled with the appointment to NORAD, as it meant he would be closer to his family in Arizona, than he had been when he'd been posted to Alaska. A few states away, but still a lot closer than the Artic Circle. Then had come the promotion within a promotion to the Special Monitoring desk at NORAD. And the briefing of a lifetime, to go along with it.

He routinely tracked various Air Force vessels, and those ships belonging to various allies, as exercises, in order to get valuable data that would enable the geeks at Area 51 to make improvements to the sensors. Thus when his board began beeping for his attention, he guessed, incorrectly, that it was just an unannounced test flight by the latest of the Daedalus class ships to come off the line; _Achilles_. The ship was supposed to have been out of the construction docks over a month ago, but the 2nd generation Daedalus class battle cruiser had been held up for a last minute addition of a new weapon system. Upon closer examination of the bogey over the north Atlantic seaboard, Sergeant Martinez-Garcia determined that the contact wasn't friendly and called his supervisor.

"What do you have for me Alex?"

"Unknown contact. Intermittent at best. Like a cloaking field with power issues, I'd say."

"Ok, I'm going to add the SGC on this circuit."

"Heya Walter? You got your ears on down there?"

"Colonel Rind. I hear you loud and clear sir. What Can the SGC do for you?"

"We're picking up an intermittent contact over the East Coast of the US, specifically around the mid-Atlantic states. Ale tells me it looks like a cloaking field with power problems. Are you guys testing anything today?"

"Negative sir. No ships scheduled for launch."

"Roger that. Recommend you alert General Landry to a possible incursion. Request release of 3rd SFW at Peterson for intercept duties."

"Stand by."

A few minutes pass while Sergeant Harriman briefs General Landry.

"Colonel Rind? General Landry here. Request for fighter intercept granted. Use the 3rd at Peterson and the 7th at Area 51."

"Affirmative. Issuing orders now."

**Area 51  
Alert Shack**

Major Robert 'Roughrider' Anderson was something of a fighter pilot prodigy. He'd graduated high school at the ripe old age of fourteen. Then gone on to university at Texas A&M University. By the time he turned sixteen and could do what he'd wanted to do, he already had both a fixed-wing license and a spin-wing qualification. The Air Force portion of the Corps of Cadets took him in, and by the time he graduated a year later, he'd earned the bars of a 2nd lieutenant. The Air Force still thought he was too young to be a pilot, so they let him stay at A&M to earn a Master's degree. But he did one better, and three years later, had was hooded with a Ph.D. in aerospace engineering.

Then, rather than earning a post with a front-line squadron, he'd been transferred to Area 51 to work on something so secret, that even he had never heard of it before his arrival and briefing. It was the dream, the chance of a lifetime, to work on the F-302-B project. The F-302 was _THE_ fighter that everyone wanted to fly. Everyone with clearance that is. The B-model would be better. The first model, call it the A-model was a two seater space-superiority fighter. The B-model would be a one-seat interceptor. More engine power with a top speed rating of just over Mach 8, combined with an internal weapons bay, four external detachable hardpoints, wingtip plasma cannons, and a nose mounted 20mm cannon, made the B-model something of a meaner machine than its first generation cousin.

His posting to Area-51 had come immediately after the furball in Antarctica with Anubis' forces. His work on the B-model had started immediately after he'd seen the gun camera footage from that historic first battle. The result of which was sitting on strip alert at Area 51. His fellow pilots were no strangers to sitting alerts, but day in and day out for six months at a time made for unceasing boredom. Until today that is.

When the alert klaxon began ringing in the Alert Shack, the pilots all looked up in wonder at the oscillating red light. It took them exactly three seconds to realize what the lights and the sirens meant. Then they rushed in a mad scramble to get their gear in place and ran for their planes. The men responsible for making sure the craft were always ready, the ground crews assigned to each aircraft, were performing last minute inspections right alongside their pilots, counting each and every arming pin and flag pulled by the pilot prior to launch.

The hangar doors rolled open quickly along the runway, and controllers gave them the green light. Two by two, the aircraft took the active runway, and lifted off in pairs, igniting their afterburners to quickly gain altitude, going ballistic to reach the upper atmosphere before joining up with the other members of their squadron and turning over for the short hop to the East Coast. At Mach 8, anything was a short hop.

As the distance closed, the target got clearer and clearer. The lead ship in the squadron, bathed the area in tachyon particles, hoping to illuminate the target. When it showed up clearly on sensors, the members of the 7th Space Interceptor Squadron were able to get a clear lock-on. The vessel, a cloaked Al'kesh, almost didn't detect the fighters approaching its position. But when it did, it made a quick turn out of orbit and proceeded at best speed away from the gravity well so it could enter hyperspace. The 7th turned to pursue and managed to fire off one salvo of missiles at max range before the ship entered hyperspace. Most of the rockets shut down when the target entered hyperspace, but one of the missiles got caught in the wake of the ship and was dragged into hyperspace along with it. A few seconds later, there was an effect, almost like a borealis, in deep space, when the missile exploded against the hull of the unshielded Al'kesh, forcing it to drop from hyperspace. Unfortunately for the pilots of the 7th, the Al'kesh dropped from hyperspace far beyond the limit of their fuel. They returned to their base, happy in the knowledge that they had just defended their home.

* * *

**PLAN _Fucanglong_**

It was a strange name for a ship, and the crew was having fun with it.

"What ship do you serve on?" One crewman asked another.

"I'm a crewman on the _Fucking Long_." Came the answer.

Of course, the Chinese crew didn't see the humor in it. Perhaps it just didn't translate well enough. Still, it made for a few humorous moments among the crew, and if anything could break up the boredom on these long missions, it was humor.

_Fucanglong_ was only minutes away from Midway now. They had planned to take on two Jumpers that were to be assigned to them. Atlantis had recently discovered an abandoned Ancient outpost in the Pegasus Galaxy, that had yielded hundreds of Jumpers in various states of repair. They were being issued to the small but growing fleet as they completed repairs on the small ships. Eventually, each ship in the Earth fleet would have at least two Jumpers assigned to it. There were only so many drones to be had, but each Jumper would carry two into battle, and their mother ships would carry at most eight more drones, to allow for a maximum of four sorties per Jumper.

The _Fucanglong_ wasn't designed to carry fighters. The Jumpers were a catch-all compromise, allowing the ship to deploy troops onto a planet, and allowing a ship to have one more level of defense against an enemy.

* * *

**Vincenzo's Deli  
Newark, New Jersey**

It had been a long time that Tony DiNozzo hadn't been home. But things were bad just now. Gibbs had been confirmed dead in the helicopter crash up near Loudon, and the prisoners he'd been sent to interrogate had been blown to bits, literally, in a bombing at the Marine Corps Base in Quantico. NCIS was on a short stand down, and Tony had fled the area to run up to Newark. He and his family might never see eye to eye, but his uncle Vinny was always someone he could count on.

The sights of the old neighborhood brought back fond memories for Tony. Sure, he'd gown up on Long Island, the son of wealthy parents, but he always remembered the few summers spent with his Aunt Carlotta and her son. Technically, that made Vinny his cousin, but in the Italian tradition, Vinny became his uncle. He parked his car on the street and walked into the Deli his uncle had run for years. The smells were enticing enough that he forgot for a moment why he was here. In fact, he didn't know why he was here. Just that it felt safe for the moment. Maybe it was the feeling of failure that caused him to come here. His Uncle Vinny would know what to do, what to say.

"Help youse?"

"Is Vinny here?"

"Yeahs. Whose looking?"

"Tell him, Tony DiNozzo is out front."

"Yo Vinny! Some kid DiNozzo to sees ya!"

"Tony! What, you can't call? You don't write! What kinda nephew are you supposed to be anyhow?"

"I've been busy?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. You still on the job? Last I heard you was wit the PD out in Philly?"

"That was years ago, Uncle Vin. Was there about a year and a half, then went to the PD in Baltimore for just under two years before getting my current position."

"And where is youse now?"

"NCIS. Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

"Damn. You're a Fed?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. A boy of good Italian stock like me should gone into the 'family business', right?"

"Hell no! Don't even joke like that! One of us in the 'family business' is enough, youse hear me?"

"Yeah. I hear you."

"So, what brings you out here?"

"I don't know. I just, you know, needed to see someone that still cares."

"What happened?"

"Some bad things, Uncle Vin. You hear about that helicopter crash down in Virginia?"

"Yeah. I think I heard something or other on the radio about that."

"My boss was onboard, escorting a VIP to safe house."

"Oh man! I'm sorry, Tony."

"To make things worse, the prisoners I was supposed to be interrogating, the ones that were responsible for making that VIP go in hiding? They got themselves all blown to hell down at Quantico."

"I heard about that. Sounds like a hit to me."

"Yeah. Tell me about it. The bomber took out six buildings at Quantico, including the Brig, just to make sure they got all the witnesses."

"Damn!"

"So, what, youse want me to put out some feelers? See if anyone knows anything?"

"Nah. We know who did it. We just can prove anything. These fucking companies, they think they know what's best for the planet. They act like petty damned dictators! They have mercenary forces at their disposal that puts some big city police departments to shame! And we can't touch them!"

"Have a seat kid. Get a meal. I need to take care of some paperwork, then we'll head to the house. Sounds like youse need to tie one on, tonight!"

"Thanks."

"Fuhgedaboutit."

Vincenzo made sure his guy behind the counter set Tony up with a house special, a current favorite in the neighborhood; a '_Soprano_' sandwich, and anything else he needed. Then he went into his office and locked the door. He was hesitant about who to call. Not that he needed an excuse to call, just that he wasn't sure if he wanted back in, even for a short time. His decision made, he picked up the phone and dialed an old number, from memory.

"Sailor Hardware."

"Uncle Mike?"

"Vinny! What's the matter with you? You don't call, you don't write! It's like you fell off the planet, almost!"

"I know, uncle Mike. But I had to lay low for awhile. Do me a favor?"

"Anything for you, Vinny."

"Find McPike for me? Send him by the house. Tell him…tell him I'm calling in a marker. If he bitches, tell him this will settle all debts."

"Yeah sure Vinny. You in trouble again?"

"It's not for me. Not this time. See what you can find on Antonio DiNozzo, NCIS. He's my nephew, uncle Mike. Only family I got left. Tell McPike to bring an NDF. Might have need of it."

"Sure thing, Vin. I'll make sure he goes by the house."

"Thanks uncle Mike. It was good to hear your voice again."

"Same here. Don't be a stranger now."

That Evening

DiNozzo was still nursing his first beer, while his uncle Vinny was in the kitchen making up a batch of his momma's famous spaghetti and meatballs. He almost dropped the wooden spoon he was using to stir the thick sauce when he heard the throat clearing behind him.

"Ya know Frank, you could've knocked."

"Ten years. Vincent. I don't hear from you for ten years, then a sudden call from Lifeguard tells me you want to clear out all the markers? I thought you were dead!"

"After Guzman's people nearly got to me in Florida, I had to lay low for awhile. I used some of Sonny's money. Set myself up in business, and ran it quietly. Would've stayed away Frank, but I need a big favor."

"Big enough to clear all the markers, eh?"

"More than big enough. I might end up owing you on this one."

"Ok. You can tell me all about it over dinner."

"Yeah. I will. But first, you're going to have my dinner guest sign those Non-Disclosure Forms in your pocket."

"Who?"

"My nephew. Tony DiNozzo. He's with NCIS. He's only given me bits and pieces, but it sounds like a major case, the kind of case that can make or break a career."

"Oh. Sounds like fun. He in the living room? I'll just go in there."

"Go easy on him Frank. He just lost his own boss at NCIS. Killed by big business, from what it sounds like."

McPike could only raise his eyebrows at that little tidbit of information. Still, his curiosity was piqued by just the phone call after ten years of living underground. Once upon a time, Vincent Terranova had been his best undercover agent. Then he'd gotten in over his head in Miami, and had gotten a sanction against him by a power drug cartel. McPike had thought him dead. He'd seen the body! Tonight, he'd find out how Vinny had pulled one over on the Bureau. And on him.

* * *

**IOA _Midway Station_**

The PLAN _Fucanglong_ was right on time, pulling up to the station and engaging the airlock to the extendible walkway. Colonel Reiko Sumner was first off the ship, headed for the command deck and to Colonel Pryce. She wanted a first hand look at some telemetry data that had pulled her all the way out here. Something about a Wraith shuttle, that they had managed to capture recently.

"Colonel Pryce? Colonel Reiko Sumner, SGC R&D. "

"Good to have you aboard, Colonel. Why don't you join me in the mess hall. I've something truly remarkable to show you."

"After you sir."

Midway Station

**Mess Hall**

Reiko and Pryce walked in, exchanging news from Earth and Pegasus. In any other Earth-bound context, such an exchange of information would have been seen as comical or perhaps tainted with subterfuge. But here on Midway, it was par for the course. Pryce motioned for Reiko to have a seat, then activated the intercom and asked Colonel Caldwell to join them.

"Stephen Caldwell is on the station?"

"Yeah. Arrived shortly after the Jumper team to see what they had found. Here he comes now."

"Reiko!"

"Stephen! You old war dog you! It's good to see you again! Last time was at Marshall's funeral, right?"

"It was. Listen, just humor me for a bit. I've something truly amazing to show you."

"Ok."

"You can come in now!" Caldwell called out to the hallway.

"What are you…uhm, Marshall?"

"Reiko. You are a sight for sore eyes! I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Marshall? Is that really you?"

"It's me babe."

"But, but, but. I was told you were dead?"

"I got better? I've been a POW with the Wraith since then."

"Oh my. Marsh…"

Reiko Sumner fainted dead away, though Pryce managed to catch her before she hit the deck. Marshall ran to his wife's side and began calling her name, trying to awaken her. Pryce and Caldwell left the two of them alone. Reunited by a twist of fate.

* * *

**White House  
October 21, 2008  
Same Time**

It didn't matter if Henry Hayes was a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper, the mere fact that someone tapped at his door lightly was enough to bring him fully awake, almost as if his subconscious mind had the duty watch while his conscious mind slept. But awake he did, reaching for his robe on a nearby chair, he opened the door to find one of his detail, holding a message flimsy for him.

"Simmons? At zero-dark-thirty, I'm guessing it's not good news?"

"Sorry sir. I', just the messenger."

"Right. Keep telling yourself that."

"Message traffic from NMCC, sir. There's been an incident in orbit. O'Neill and the Chairman of the JCS are on their way here to brief you."

"Have them go to the OEOB. They can take the tunnel. No sense in alerting the press to something that might just be a simple thing."

"Very well sir. Shall I have the staff send up coffee?"

"No. Better to send it to the Situation Room. I'll be there shortly."

"Yes sir."

**Situation Room  
Fifteen minutes later**

President Hayes had a lot of things on his mind, but in particular was the speech he was writing for himself, that would reveal the existence of extra-terrestrial life to the world. The Chiefs of State for the IOA were flying in on Friday for a series of meetings, after which he would address the nation. 'Well, I never really wanted to be the Commander-in-Chief, so if Congress wants to impeach me, it may as well be for something grand!'

Hayes was just starting his second cup of coffee when the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff walked in, followed closely by Jack O'Neill. Both men sat down after getting cups of coffee. From the looks of their faces, Hayes could tell the news was bad.

"Sir, we're setting up with the NMCC to conference in the rest of the JCS."

A few minutes later, an aide to the President indicated that the conference was all set up.

"Alright gentlemen, what's happened that couldn't wait a few more hours?"

"Sir, there are several things that had been brought to my attention."

"Spit it out, Admiral."

"Sir. Last night, a special forces team attempted to kidnap Major General Gordon Cresswell, his wife, and his niece, shortly after leaving the White House state dinner. If it hadn't been for the fortunate interference by one Commander Harmon Rabb, Junior, I daresay that mercenary team would have gotten what they wanted."

"My National Security Advisor briefed me in on that."

"Sir. Several hours after they arrived at the hospital, Colonel Paul Davis, Pentagon Liaison to the SGC, arranged for secured transportation via a Black hawk to unidentified facility. The helo crashed enroute. There was one survivor. Davis was thrown clear of the helicopter just after it crashed, but before it burst into flames. He claims he was unable to reach the others."

"Cresswell?"

"And his wife and niece sir, along with the crew, Commander Rabb, and an NCIS Agent Leroy J. Gibbs."

"I see."

"There's more sir. At about the same time of the crash, two NCIS Agents were at Quantico to interview the surviving mercenaries from the previous kidnap attempt. The explosions there yesterday? One of those explosions killed the surviving mercenaries."

"Damn. This just gets better and better. Jack? What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"Sir. At approximately the same time as the explosions and the crash, NORAD picked up an intermittent contact over the east coast. They believed it to be a cloaked vessel. The 3rd and the 7th were launched to intercept. The 7th made it there in record time, but the target attempted to pull away. One missile followed the vessel, now identified as an Al'kesh, into hyperspace, where a few seconds later there was one hell of an explosion. The pilots tell me there was a definite bang in hyperspace, cause normal space lit up like the Aurora Borealis. But the target was too far distant for them to investigate with the limited fuel."

"The 7th? That's the new B-model?"

"Yes sir. Worked like a champ, sir. Mach 8."

"Anything else Jack?"

"Yes sir. I went back over the tapes that NORAD took of the contact. We've identified what they were doing in orbit. Just before each explosion at Quantico, the cloaking field wavered for an instant. Just long enough for cameras on the ground at the sites of the explosions to capture an Asgard transport beam depositing explosive packages."

"Well, that's one way to get around security, I'd guess."

"Yes sir. There was one fluctuation in the cloaking field, another transport beam we believe, that's unaccounted for. Only thing we can guess at is the helicopter."

"Wonderful. Anything else gentlemen?"

"Yes sir, one more thing sir."

"Go ahead, William. It can't be any worse than it already is."

"As you know sir, the FBI, in cooperation with friendly law enforcement agencies around the world, have been raiding known TRUST safe houses. Well, it seems that Senator Faxon is looking into the raids and is asking them to be halted temporarily until her committee can review the evidence. It seems she believes we're going after legitimate companies that might be unwitting partners to the TRUST. There is some evidence, sir, but nothing we can prove, that Senator Faxon is a TRUST agent."

"Faxon? Why do I know that name?"

"Her brother, Jack. Her brother was Ambassador Joseph Faxon."

"Damn. The Aschen mission. She wants revenge."

"That looks like about the size of it, Jack."

"One more thing sir."

"Spit it out Jack, before it leaves a sour taste in your mouth."

"Right. Well, this came across my pager just moments before we walked in here. It seems there's a lake in Minnesota that's gone missing."

"How would anyone know if a lake is missing? Especially in the land of ten thousand lakes?"

"Apparently by the amount of boats left behind on the lake bed, sir."

"Smart ass. You're just a smart aleck, smart ass aren't you Jack?"

"That's me sir."

"Fine. Who has the capability of taking an entire lake?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, on that one, sir."

"Jack, where are the cruisers?"

"Daedalus should be leaving Pegasus in about a week, just after Apollo arrives. Achilles is out of the yard and testing in the belt. Ajax and Agamemnon arrived a few days ago from Echo Station carrying the survivors.

* * *

**Newark  
New Jersey**

"So all this time, that I thought, that they whole family thought, that you were nothing but a thug, a mob enforcer, you're actually a federal agent? Why are you telling me now?"

"Cause of what you said. I put away a lot of men who ran their enterprises like they were dictators of small countries. They tried to be legit in their dealings, but they were just thugs. Now you tell me there are legitimate companies out there who are doing the same thing. Employing mercenaries as their own private armies, killing government officials who get in the way. I didn't like the mob doing things like that, but they were mostly honorable in their dealings. Killing hundreds of Marines just to kill eight of their own who happened to be prisoners is so far from honorable that it jus stinks. Frank, I know I'm retired, but I want back in, just for this case."

"I think we can swing that. Anyone in particular you want to work with?"

"I was thinking Roger. He's still a merc from what I hear. He might have an in with these guys."

"Uncle Vinny? You sure you want to do this? They killed my boss, but he was collateral damage to who they were after. They killed a Marine Major General and his family just to get to his niece. From what I understand her mother works at some top secret Air Force project in Colorado."

"Her mother does? What about her father?"

"He worked for the project, but was killed in a training accident about four years ago."

"Any idea why this organization wants the girl or her mother?"

"None. But whatever the project is that her mother works on? The little we could find out about it, is that most of the people stationed there are black-ops special forces types."

"In Colorado? Good God man, why?"

"I have no idea, sir. None whatsoever."

* * *

**Location Lima**

It hadn't taken long to determine that everyone who had been in the transport helo, except for the helo's crew, were now in this prison, along with Colonel Davis, who'd already been a resident for some six months.

"So since you've been here, you haven't seen any guards? How the heck do they feed you?"

"Food appears twice a day, on the table in the middle room. Beamed in via transporter. Asgard beaming technology I believe, but I can't be certain."

"Asgard what? Does this have anything to do with the briefing I got a few days ago, about a certain project out at Cheyenne Mountain?"

"It has everything to do with it, sir. I'd bet my last dollar that this is a TRUST facility. I'm not entirely certain where it is, other than its an asteroid. It could be in our solar system, it could be someplace else. I don't know how long I was out initially."

"I'm having a hard time believe we're on an asteroid, let along in space."

"I'm sorry Agent Gibbs. But it's the truth."

"Fine. There's got to be a way out of here."

"There may well be one, sir, but frankly, I'd rather not go about opening doors that might lead to space. I kind of like breathing air instead of vacuum."

"I see your point.

There was a flash of light in the room behind them and all of them turned to find General Jack O'Neill standing there.

"This isn't funny Thor!"

"General O'Neill?"

"Paul? What are you…where in the Hell am I?"

"Sir. It appears to be an asteroid sir. What do you remember?"

"I was walking into my apartment after a late night meeting. I felt…oh damn. I got zatted! I hate that! Then my world turned white and here I was."

"Asgard transport beam, sir?"

"Yeah. Thought it was Thor. Guess I'm wrong. I really miss the little guy."

"Sir, if you're here, then they've managed to successfully replace you with a clone."

"Clone? Not again."

"That's right. You already have a clone. Forgot about that, sir."

There was another flash of light, and the women that had been in their party earlier in the night, appeared amongst them.

"Dora! Melissa! Are you two alright?"

"Gordie! What the hell is going on?"

"I wish I knew, honey."

"General O'Neill, I think we're owed an explanation."

"Davis, tell them what they need to know."

"Sir. Alright folks, let's have a seat, and I'll try to explain everything as best as I can. To really understand things, you have to look at ancient Earth history, for the period right around ten thousand years before the birth of Christ. It was at about that time that an advanced alien species came to our world. Seeing how easily our bodies were manipulated and repaired, they took us over, using some of us as hosts. These advanced aliens were parasites. They forced themselves into the bodies of our ancestors, and they became the Gods of old. Ra, Zeus, Jupiter. Every ancient civilization worshipped them in one form or another.

No one really knows how the next events unfolded, but suffice to say our ancient ancestors got tired of these petty Gods, and they threw them off their world. But not before much of the population of Earth at that time had been taken through a device we call the Stargate, to various other worlds as slaves.

Jump forward ten thousand years. The Air Force managed to re-open the Stargate with the help of Doctor Daniel Jackson. The first mission through the Gate was to a planet called Abydos, some one million light years away from Earth. And despite the currently level of technology on our world, we were able to travel that distance in mere seconds. For you see, the Stargate on our world exists as part of a network of Gates all over the universe, allowing for near instantaneous travel via a controlled wormhole that is established between any two Gates in the network."

"These aliens, did they build these Gates?"

"No General. The aliens I'm talking about are called the Goa'uld. The Gates, however, were built by a civilization that predates even them. We're talking at least a million years or older for the average Gate."

"Oh wow."

"The team that went to Abydos included Dr. Jackson, and was headed up by Jack O'Neill, who was a Colonel at that time. Eight men went to Abydos. Not all of them came back. On Abydos, they encountered Ra. Colonel O'Neill and Dr. Jackson killed Ra, and in doing so, freed the Abydonian people from millennia of slavery, and forced Earth into a years long interstellar war.

Along the way, Earth made allies and more enemies, until eventually, a few years ago, we struck a hard blow against the most powerful Goa'uld; Anubis. His fleet was defeated, and his armies crushed. We did it by reverse-engineering captured space craft and building our own. But as you might well imagine, the Air Force couldn't build the entire craft themselves. Parts were farmed out. Some companies became a little too curious as to the technology. Those companies formed the basis of what we know call the TRUST.

The TRUST exists to find new and better technologies, or to steal them, to make Earth more powerful, and in doing so, to make them more money. Earth has enough enemies out there without having money hungry companies on Earth causing problems. At the start of the last Presidential campaign, they sought to influence the election. They succeeded in getting Kinsey elected as Vice-President by forcing him onto Hayes. Kinsey was a major TRUST player."

"Damn. I actually liked Kinsey!"

"I'm sure you did, Mrs. Cresswell, but the fact remains that Kinsey wanted only power and was unafraid to do whatever it took to get himself named as President. If the TRUST had been just a little more successful, Kinsey would have become President for life."

Jack O'Neill sat down onto one of the chairs in the common room. There were eight rooms arrayed around a central hub common room, where there were chairs and a few tables. According to Colonel Davis, he'd been the only prisoner here for six months. Meals were beamed in twice a day. The fact that they'd kept him alive meant that he was a vital part of their plans. But now they had Jack O'Neill here and a clone in his place on Earth. A TRUST clone. Jack sat there, rubbing the bridge of his nose and grinding his teeth. The mere act of grinding his teeth wasn't enough to pop through the false enamel on the back molar. That took a concentrated effort. But once he had done so, it opened up his escape plan. Jack began to whisper, seemingly to himself.

* * *

**SGC  
Earth  
Level 18  
Office of Daniel Jackson**

It might have been late at night, even in Colorado, but Daniel couldn't tell. Buried eighteen levels below ground meant he didn't see the sun as much as the would like. But it didn't really matter to him. He was still a part of the SGC, and there was always something to translate or some artifact to examine. Today had not been the exception to that rule. SG-12 had brought back a parchment scroll written in an obscure Goa'uld dialect that might or might not reveal the location of another outpost of the Ancients. He was deeply immersed in his work and only faintly heard the beep-beep-beep from his computer signifying new mail had arrived.

He looked up and saw that it was from Jack. He wondered for a moment at the time difference between Colorado and DC and then forgot all about that the moment he started to read the transcript that was scrolling across his screen. Within seconds, he had dialed one number and moments later was joined by Teal'c, who upon reading over the message, realized the full import of it and proceeded at once to make some arrangements.

"…in a jail cell on an asteroid. Not sure where or even how long it will take this message to get to you via the subspace transceiver we had implanted at Thor's request before he left. Paul Davis compromised. There's a clone of him on Earth. It's been there for at least six months, possibly longer. Clone of me in place now. Not sure who else has been compromised. Not sure who you can trust. Almost swear that Thor told me I couldn't be cloned, so not sure how TRUST did it. Sam Carter compromised. Shit! She was just beamed in here! It's up to you and T to get us out of here. Counting on you Daniel. Going to leave the transmitter on, so you can use it as a homing signal. Get me out of here…"

* * *

**Lucian Alliance Command Station**

It was a command station, the likes of which only Anubis could have built. It was immense, and it was his. Naten might have been many things once, but even he recognized the power of the station. Anubis might have been very bad for business, but he was certainly n slouch when it came to designing this station.

He should have heard back from Solek hours ago. Where was that fool?

"Naten. Solek has returned."

"He should have reported hours ago. Signal his vessel."

"No response."

"How odd. First, activate internal defenses."

"Activity in the Ring Room!"

"Show me!"

Naten's First activated the main viewer and to their horror they saw strange humanoid like creatures wearing grotesque masks appear in the Ring Room. The first guards to respond were brought down by strange weapons that caused his warriors to drop easily. More and more of these strange aliens appeared, and he was grateful that he had ordered the internal defenses activated. But he also saw it as an oversight, that the Ring Room had not been defended. The hallway outside the Ring Room, however, was an altogether different matter.

As the blue-gray skinned aliens came pouring out of the door, plasma bolts struck them from above and behind, killing many in the first wave outright before their own weapons disabled the first of many security turrets.

"First! Order all remaining warriors to the pel'tak!"

"Yes!"

They trickled in two and three at a time. Some had obviously been in combat, as evidenced by the blood of their comrades on their tunics. But when no more appeared, Naten activated the silent countdown on the self-destruct, and activated the ejection sequence for the pel'tak. Anubis had been clever indeed! The entire level of the pel'tak could be separated from the station and flown away like a life boat. Only Naten, his First, and a dozen warriors lived to tell the tale of the Wraith attack on his holdings. His previously most secured holdings. In the distance, he should have seen an explosion, but when he didn't, he realized that these aliens must have deactivated the self-destruct. It was something only Solek could have done.

Naten was furious with himself. No one, other than the Tau'ri, had dared to challenge the Lucian Alliance. He had forged a rough peace with the Tau'ri, and that had brought him to power with the Alliance. He needed information. Could these strange aliens be these Wraith he'd heard so much about? Intelligence, in this case, was vital. He needed to know how to fight these aliens. His mind was made up quickly.

"General Landry."

"Naten. You are looking well. To what do the Tau'ri owe the pleasure of this contact?"

"One of my Seconds, Solek, and his five ships were attacked and subverted. We intercepted the distress call from your Station Echo, and I sent Solek to render assistance. I do not know what had become of him, but mere hours ago, his fleet appeared at one of our command stations. Communications were not established and I took the liberty of activating internal defenses. Alien creatures, unlike any I have ever see came through the Rings. I, and a few of my most trusted warriors barely managed to escape. The self-destruct was deactivated. These unknown aliens now have control of one of our command stations."

"Do you have any images of these aliens?"

"I am sending them on a sub-channel. In a matter of hours, Landry, these creatures subverted five Ha'taks worth of Loyal Lucian Alliance warriors. Tell me what I face, if you know."

"I have the data now. It is what I feared. The creatures are called the Wraith. They don't kill their enemies like you are I might. They feed on their enemies. They eat them."

"Such abominations must not be allowed to live! They have made an enemy of the Lucian Alliance this day. I am prepared to pledge our assistance to the Tau'ri, in defeating this enemy. Together, we are stronger!"

"Yes we are. Do you have the coordinates to our station Anchorage Beta?"

"No."

"I'm sending it on a sub-channel. I'll inform them of your pending arrival. How many Ha'taks do you have at your disposal?"

"Hundreds."

"Very good. We have many fighters, but not the means to carry them into battle. Perhaps…"

"Perhaps we can do this for you?"

"I believe, this could be the start of a good working relationship. I will leave it to General Soames at Beta to determine how we can tie our forces together."

To be Continue


	9. Chapter 8

Notes: I don't own anything and I like to thank Expatraited Texan for his wonderful help in making this project work.

* * *

Chapter 8

**Anchorage Beta  
SGC Deep Space Base  
5000 AU from Earth**

Anchorage Beta had only recently gone on-line. A joint venture in construction between the SGC and Hebridan. They'd used two old Ha'taks as the core of the station, joining them end to end and forming a huge diamond-shaped station. At the mid point, where a normal Goa'uld Ha'tak would have had a docking ring, there was a large construction that joined the two halves together. This was where the fighter bays were kept, along with various hangars for Tel'tac shuttles and Al'kesh bombers.. The hangar complex was also where the vast majority of the station's defensive and offensive weapons were housed.

Adjacent to the station and accessible either via small cargo shuttle, vac-suit, or transport beam, was the jewel of the SGC's off-world facilities. A set of shipyards capable of building anything in the current inventory. Four of the slips were currently occupied as construction proceeded apace on four new Daedalus class vessels. A small set of yards, these fully enclosed to provide the work crews with breathable atmosphere and set at half of Earth standard gravity, was where production was well underway on the A model of the venerable F-302.

The Station's ace in the hole, as it were, was in the form of one very large gun. It was an experimental unit; a prototype based on a combination of Tollan and Asgard technologies. But it drew so much power, that the station had multiple banks of naquadah generators providing power to only that weapon. Even then, it took a full minute to charge to full power, and up to three minutes to cool down and re-charge for a second shot. Still, where the standard staff cannons that were the basis of the anti-fighter weaponry had a impact force of two hundred megatons, this one weapon had an impact force several orders of magnitude higher. In theory and in simulations, the beam easily passed through the toughest shields in existence, and vaporized anything it touched. If a dozen Ha'taks were sitting in space in a straight line, the beam from this weapon could vaporize all of them, and still have a potent killing force.

The weapon made Anchorage Beta into a fearsome place. The station would eventually become home to a half dozen fighter squadrons, but for the moment, the flight crews were working with Udajeet; Goa'uld death gliders.

When Naten exited hyperspace and made his approach to the station, Juko, his aide, measured the power that was building in the weapon. Had the False God's had this type of weapon at their disposal, the universe would be a different place today.

* * *

**One Day Earlier  
Somewhere in a Mississippi Swamp**

It hadn't taken him long to find out Roger's location. The man might have been once hard to find, but it seemed that nowadays he was easy to find. Running a survival school and training school for personal protection tended to make one easy to find. But if anything, Vinny really hated the swamp. Already he'd seen a few mosquitoes that looked big enough to need clearance to land from a air traffic control tower! And he was certain that their were eyes following him through his trip into the swamp. Why LoCocco had picked a spot like this was beyond him. But it did make a certain warped kind of sense. He tied the boat to a cleat on the small wooden pier and walked up to the main building. He didn't even knock first. The man didn't look up as Vincent entered. But he knew it was him.

"Hello Roger."

"Buckwheat? Is that really you? You're supposed to be dead! How come you aren't dead?"

"Someone lied? Nah. When I saw that death squad coming for me, I knew it was time to get out of the business. They shot at me, or what they thought was me, from a distance, filling my boat with lead. Then they went away, leaving their calling card on the deck. I knew if they knew I was still alive, McPike would be next. So I 'died' that night. A friend owed me a favor and he got a body for me, dead of course, that was about my height and build. I cut off the hands to prevent the feds from trying to identify any prints. I made it look like several rounds had penetrated the facial area, completely blowing out the body's teeth, so no dental records. Then I went into hiding."

"Bastard. I thought we were friends! You could have called me for help."

"Someone had blown my cover, Roger. I didn't know who to trust."

"Well, alright. I'll forgive you. What the hell are you doing here now?"

"Why don't we grab a beer, and a comfortable seat somewhere, and I'll tell you all about it."

"My apartment is this way. Cold beer in the fridge, and maybe some leftovers from supper. You hungry?"

"Starving."

**Several Hours and Several Beers later**

"I'm in."

"Just like that?"

"You know, once upon a time, I fought for my country, keeping it safe from other countries that were trying to do what these TRUST companies are doing. Yeah, so I got disillusioned. So what? I became a merc and a damned good one at that. Then I screwed up and went to work for the Agency. Mistake number one. Mistake number two was believing in, even for just a moment, the words of Mel Profitt. Mistake number three, was not quitting when I had the chance. When I got done with your little favor out west, I did quit. But you know, I eventually got bored out of my skull. Only thing I had was all that training the Agency gave me. So I took some of the money I'd hidden away, and bought this place. Been here since the start of the millennium, training corporate security types."

"I made too many mistakes to count, Roger. But number one on my hit parade was falling for Susan."

"You know she's out, right?"

"She's what? She's out? How?"

"Convinced the docs that she was well, that it had been a temporary breakdown resulting from the loss of her brother. Mel might have been a sonofabitch, but he had a lot of businesses. Some of those were even legit ones too. Susan took over the holdings. She's sent several of her people down here for training. But she doesn't know it's me running the show."

"How do you think she would react to seeing us again? To seeing me again?"

"I can't answer that one cause I just don't know. You want the ironic part?"

"Sure."

"Among the many legitimate holdings of the Profitt Companies, is a weapons manufacturer for the military. If this TRUST is as bad as you say it is, then Susan would be the way in to the TRUST. Question is, do you still have feelings for her?"

"I always will, Roger."

"Let me approach her first."

"Ok. I trust you Roger."

"Stay down here a week or so. Get back into shape. I'll get my instructors to take you through the basic course. Get them to take it easy on you for at least the first day or so."

* * *

**Commodum Enterprises  
Prosper, Texas**

Commodum, which was Latin for the word Profit, had its global headquarters in Prosper, Texas. It was close enough to the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex to pull in some of the best engineering talent that Silicon Prairie had to offer, yet far enough away to escape most of the hustle and bustle that was the inner Metroplex. The company itself had existed during the heyday of Profitt Enterprises, but had been one of the very few legitimate companies owned by Mel and Susan Profitt. Mel had died, and Susan had been carted off to an asylum for the criminally insane, a fate seldom escaped by anyone.

Yet she had convinced the powers that be that she had been cured. The fact was that her lawyers had been the very best money could buy. Over the course of several years, they had worked behind the scenes, replacing doctors , who couldn't care less about Susan, with those that were highly paid by Profitt Enterprises. Eventually, the time had come when enough of the 'right' doctors had been on the release review committee and Susan Profitt had been freed. She had loved her brother, perhaps a little too much, and had indulged him in all of his requests. But of the two, she had just a tad more intelligence. Where Mel could have been compared to an Einstein in terms of genius, Susan was something along the lines of a Hawking, quite and somewhat soft spoken, that when she did speak, people tended to listen.

She had taken Commodum Enterprises from the small third party contractor of military hardware that it had been ten years ago, to one of the fore most manufacturers of targeting software in the world. Their software, in fact, was the basis for the targeting systems in the F-302 fighters the Air Force was fielding, though everyone at Commodum thought their product was going into the F-35. Susan had her own cadre of bodyguards, trained in full by the RLC Academy in Mississippi.

She hadn't made the decision to select RLC. That particular decision had been made by the previous CEO. Still, it was one that served her well enough that she had long over-looked it. Until today. Apparently the owner and chief instructor of RLC was due for a rare visit. The rumor was that RLC wanted to expand it's facilities to be able to train more personnel. Susan wondered if that meant that RLC would be increasing its pricing for classes.

Roger LoCocco walked in to an office he hadn't ever planned on coming to. It was a necessary evil. He had promised Vinny his help and so here he was, walking back into the den of lion he had no desire to ever face again. Once upon a time, he had been an integral part of Mel Profitt's plans. Then he had helped Vinny bring Mel and Susan down. Now he was here, hoping she would disembowel him on the spot. She had nice carpeting in here. It would be a shame to ruin it with his blood.

Her secretary had announced his presence to her and he had walked in, his head held high, yet Susan's head was facing the top of her desk, looking at, undoubtedly, a monitor built into the desktop. Then she looked up at him. It took her less than an instant to place the face. Roger could see the warring emotions on her face, and he wondered at the sheer stupidity of his plan. Well, he'd had a long life, longer than he'd ever thought to have had. Especially in his line of work. All at once, the look of shock at seeing a forgotten face, changed to a look of anger, then a look of disbelief.

"Roger?"

"Hello Susan. It's been a long time."

"RLC Academy. I should have guessed. Not to worry, Roger. The impulse to kill you is under control."

"I appreciate that Susan. You can't imagine how scared I was just now. More scared than I've ever been in my life."

"You should be scared! You and that cohort of yours! You ruined everything Mel and I worked for!"

"Maybe I should leave. I think this was a bad idea. Should've know better than to think you'd even agree to help me."

"You betrayed us and then you think you can come in here after ten years to ask for my help? You're the one who should have been committed, Roger! Instead, I spent five very long years in that place! And I never heard from you or anyone else! Do you know what that's like? The feeling of abandonment?"

"Actually, I do. I'll just take my leave, Susan. Coming here was a mistake. I apologize for that, and for everything I did back then. I've lived a long time in a game that isn't kind to the old and foolish. I was a fool for coming here."

She watched him turn to leave, a cacophony of emotions screaming across her brain and her soul. If he left, she would never know the truth. He couldn't leave!

"Roger! Roger. Wait, please. Have a seat. You did a lot for my brother and I, and I believe I owe you the courtesy of at least listening to your request. I'll probably, more than likely deny your request, but the least I can do is listen."

Emotions warred across Roger's face. Should he tell her? Telling her of the TRUST was one thing. Telling her about Vinny's involvement, that was something altogether different. He sat down, and school his face into an unemotional mask. He could do this! Den of the lioness be damned!

"Susan, in all of your business dealings, have you ever heard of a group that calls itself the TRUST?"

"Rumors. Just rumors of something big going on. But I've never been approached by anyone."

"I wouldn't think you had been. From what I understand, the members of the TRUST are people without any criminal records, or any ties, whatsoever, to anything even remotely criminal."

"You've got a record, Roger. How do you know about them?"

"The TRUST is an organization that is hell bent on safeguarding the planet. Seems like a good cause, right?"

"All good causes have catches, Roger. Mel taught you that much at the least!"

"True. It's my understanding that the TRUST has gotten their hands on certain technologies that, well, aren't human ones. They've managed to take alien technologies and reverse-engineer them."

Roger held up his hand to forestall any interruptions. But he could easily see the look of disbelief on her face.

"I know what you're thinking. I'll admit I didn't believe it myself. Not until I saw a demo with my own eyes. A friend of a friend, smuggled some of the tech out. It is something I could never have dreamed up on my own."

"So what do you want from me?"

"I know that there are other CEO's like you out there in the business world. People with current or old ties to the criminal world. People like me. Folks like the TRUST scare me. Did you know that they manipulated the outcome of the last two elections?"

"Are you serious? National or State?"

"All levels. They've been getting their lackeys in place at all levels of government around the planet, so those various governments can do things that are more friendly toward the member companies. They somehow managed to force Robert Kinsey onto the ticket with Henry Hayes. It was sheer luck that Kinsey resigned. Something I'm told he did for health reasons, but in fact was cause the President had caught him red-handed in a TRUST operation."

"Even at our height, Mel would never have dreamed of doing anything like that. He might have seen himself as a modern Roman Emperor, but he would never have manipulated the political system like that to force a win."

"All I know for certain Susan, is that the TRUST is a bad thing. I have soldiers I can trust, that I can rely on. But what I need is a cartel of companies to serve as a counter-point to the TRUST. An organization that will have the full backing of the covert community."

"The covert community? But what about the government?"

"The covert community IS the government, Susan."

"It's something I'll have to think about, Roger. I've built a good company here. I don't want to throw it all away."

"There's something else, Susan."

"Yes?"

"The person that told me about the TRUST."

"It was Vincent, wasn't it."

"How did you guess?"

"Because of what you were, Roger. You wouldn't have cared less about the TRUST. But Vincent was your moral conscious. You wouldn't have gotten involved unless Vincent asked you. But I was under the impression that Vincent was dead. Killed by that drug dealing Guzman in Miami a decade ago. I read about it in the papers."

"Guzman almost got him in Miami. Vinny had to fake his death. Even the government believed him to be dead. Would you believe he owns a Deli in Newark?"

"Vinny? A deli in Newark? It's not something I can imagine."

"Will you be ok working with him, Susan? I know you had feelings for him."

"Do I still love him, you mean?"

"I didn't want to be that blunt, but yes. Do you?"

"A part of me still does. A part of me always will. But I think I can work with him. Where is he?"

"In Newark, arranging for someone take over the day to day operations of his Deli. The only bit of info we have, is that the person in charge of the TRUST is a CEO of a company in DC. Ever heard of Charlotte Mayfield?"

"Who hasn't? Her company is worth billions. Pharmaceuticals, right?"

"Pharmaceuticals based on supposed alien technologies."

"That would explain the two recent announcements of 'cures' for two obscure and rare cancers."

"It would at that. Are you interested?"

"I am."

"Good. Meet me at this address in New Jersey in three days. Vinny will be there, along with a select team of Feds."

"I will be there."

"Just promise me you won't try to kill Vincent. At least not until this operation is over?"

"Fine. But you're taking all the joy out of my life, Roger, with that promise."

* * *

**Alert Shack  
Area 51**

"Your interception, ladies and gentlemen, was textbook perfect. The ship got away, that's true, but you were there before the 3rd, and you fired war shots on an enemy combatant vessel. The first shots fired in anger by this squadron. You did so well, in fact, that General Galloway, the Air Force Chief of Staff, and the President of the United States are both in agreement. The F-302-B will be going into full production at Anchorage Beta. The 7th will be transferred there to train the squadrons that will be based there and at the Midway Station. Congratulations people. You done good."

* * *

**Midway Station**  
**Void between Galaxies**

"Colonel Pryce, message from the SGC."

"What does it say Major Pierce?"

"It says they're sending out a construction crew to enlarge the station. More sleeping areas, enlarged mess hall, enlarged infirmary, and oh yeah, hangar facilities. Apparently, we're next on the list after Anchorage Beta for a squadron."

"About damn time."

* * *

**Anchorage Beta  
5000 AU from Earth**

"Sir! Message from the SGC, sir!"

"Read it, Colonel Rizzo."

"Expect transfer of 7th Interceptor squadron with next supply run. Expect additional work crews with next supply run. And expect _Agamemnon_ to be stationed here with us after supply run completed."

"Sweet! _Agamemnon_ and her fighter squadron, and our very own fighter squadron. Excellent! That is excellent news, Colonel!"

"Indeed, sir."

"How is Naten and his troops getting along with our people?"

"Seems to be getting along pretty well sir. He's sent instructions for his fleet to join him here."

"How many ships should expect?"

"From what he tells me, at least a dozen command Ha'taks, and well over two hundred Al'kesh. He's also trying to get his hands on every fighter that he can and is asking to allow them to be based on the station."

"And you told him yes, right?"

"Damn straight, sir."

"Well, we might have more than enough fighters then, to lend the other Anchorages a squadron or two. God knows, Alpha and Delta have been screaming for reinforcements long enough."

"I know Alpha is four or five light years from Earth, but where is Delta?"

"It's my understanding that Delta will be going online in a matter of weeks, over Erebus, the planet that Anubis based his construction yards on. The same planet where we're now mining tons of naquadah and trinium.

"Very interesting, sir. I wasn't aware that there were any stations like this one besides ours and Alpha."

"It's my understanding, Rizzo, that the SGC and the IOA are planning out at least a dozen stations."

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters  
Office of the Director**

"Agent DiNozzo. What can I do for you?"

"I want to know the truth, about Gibbs."

"He's dead, DiNozzo. Let him rest in peace."

"I don't think he is. And I believe General O'Neill is holding out on us."

"You think so too, eh?"

"Ma'am?"

"Oh come on, DiNozzo! I've seen my fair share of helicopter crashes in my day. I have yet to see one where the bodies are vaporized on impact. I don't think Gibbs was on that chopper. In fact, I'm calling in a marker and getting you some help. But, you'll have to do it on your own. No help from your fellow agents or anyone else at this office. Not even from me."

"I understand. How do I do this? Leave of absence, or resignation?"

"You've go some leave time coming to you. Take it. I'll extend it by a month. After that, I'll figure something else out."

"Who am I meeting with?"

"Malcom Barrett. He's with NID."

"En-Eye-Who? Never heard of them."

"It's a small intelligence agency. Their official mandate is to provide civilian oversight of top secret military operations. They've had some problems in the past, namely a number of their former agents going rogue. Barrett will explain things in detail. You're to meet him at the Colonel's Tavern across from the Brookland Metro Station in an hour."

"How will I know him?"

"He says he'll know you."

"Thanks, Madame Director."

"Just bring Gibbs home, DiNozzo. That's all I ask."

**Monroe Street, NE  
Washington, D.C.**

Agent DiNozzo walked into the quaint looking pub across from CUA and took a seat in an empty booth. He asked for a menu while he waited for his contact to arrive. Sure enough, a man approached his table within seconds of the waiter and sat down.

"DiNozzo. Nice to meet you. I recommend the Beer Sampler. Gives you an idea of what they have here."

"Barrett, I presume?"

"Got it in one. Heard you were a smart one. Want a food recommendation?"

"Sure."

"The Reuben is good."

"Sounds ok to me. Do you have a plan, Barrett, or are you just winging it?"

"I thought I'd go to Newark in a couple of days."

"I seem to be headed up there myself. Maybe we could ride together, save on gas?"

"Sounds like a plan, DiNozzo."

**Pentagon  
Office of Homeworld Security**

General O'Neill had called in sick the previous two days. A bit of an upset stomach from something he'd eaten recently. It had been necessary. The cloning procedure hadn't quite worked as planned, and he'd woken up as a teen, rather than as an adult. He'd immediately called his Control Officer who'd had him come in for 'adjustments'. Now he looked the right age. All he had to do was act the part long enough for the plan to come to fruition.

"Major, could you bring in the list of transfer requests?"

"They're already in your in-box, sir."

"Oh right. Thanks."

General O'Neill took the file from him in-box and started looking through them. He knew exactly what to look for. A small mark, hidden to normal eyesight, but visible to his eyes through his contacts. TRUST operatives. With his real self and Carter's real self out of the way, the TRUST could finally infiltrate SGC operations on a large scale, and get what they so richly deserved. The Universe was finally within their reach!


	10. Chapter 9

Special thanks to Expatriated Texan. The Disclosure is finally here. Tell me what you think?

CHAPTER 9

**Disclosure  
White House  
Press Room**

A very somber looking Henry Hayes walked into the room and the members of the Press already in the room rose to their feet, in homage to this man, the President of the United States. But as each member of the Press Corps saw his face, they all knew, deep down in their withered and blackened cynical hearts, that tonight's speech, no matter the content, spelled Pulitzer for whoever dug up the entire story, for no President ever told the entire story. Batteries in tape recorders were checked and replaced. New tapes slapped into machines. The video media members took notice of the antics of their print media compatriots and then they noticed the faces of the men and women on the podium behind the President. Everyone had on their best Poker Face. Whatever was about to be said, would be Earth shattering.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Press, the President of the United States of America."

"Thank you. You may resume your seats. And, might I also add that you hold back any questions until I'm done. Believe me, folks, things will be a lot easier that way."

Behind him and to either side of him, screens were coming down from the ceiling. There would be visual aids. That made this speech unusual. They saw aides to the President walk in carrying huge bundles of paper. The members of the Press knew that these were the copies of the President's speech. By the size of the bundles, they also guessed that still photographs or charts or copies of the visual aids were included in the bundles.

"My fellow Americans, good evening. Two years ago, when I took this office, I was briefed on the goings-on of the United States. There are many, many programs, that by necessity, are kept secret from the public. The reasoning is varied, and moot to the present discussion. Suffice to say, that if word had gotten out then of the project I'm about to reveal, well, none of us here have Crystal Balls, and what would have happened is impossible to predict. Certainly, there would have been riots. Certainly, there would have been killings. And, I'm fairly certain, the President in office at the time this project was begun, would have been impeached."

At his words, the members of the Press Corps all looked at the President. He still had that Poker Face. He wasn't kidding with his 'impeachment' comment. They were definitely paying attention now. And so were the millions watching this on television. And they were calling up friends who hadn't cared for the President's speech and urging them to turn on the TV. Hayes was talking about impeachment!

"To understand this project, it is necessary to give a little history lesson. I promise, it will be a short one. The project, one might say, began approximately ten thousand years ago, in the area we know today as Egypt. The next bit of our story comes from the notes of an archaeologist whom shall remain nameless for the moment."

The President paused while certain slides were loaded. The hieroglyphs on the screens meant nothing to anyone in the room. Though perhaps there were a handful or even a triple handful of people in the entire world who could actually read it, none would give it the following interpretation.

"A traveler from distant stars escaped from a dying world looking for a way to extend his own life. His body, decaying and weak...he couldn't prevent his own demise. So he travelled or searched the galaxies, looking for a way to cheat death. He came to a world, rich with life, where he encountered a primative race – Humans. A species which, with all his powers and knowledge, he could maintain indefinitely. He realized within a Human body, he had a chance for a new life. As the frightened villagers ran, night became day, Curious, and without fear, the young boy walked towards the light."

"The traveler in this story is alien. This much we know for certain. The aliens came to our very primative world, and took our ancestors with them though a device they called the Chappa'ai, and that we call, the Stargate. It is a device that allows nearly instantaneous travel with any two connected points in the known universe, or at least intantaneous travel between any two Stargates. The gates create a controlled wormhole, and all one need do is step into the Gate on Earth, and they would be instantly broken down into a stream of matter, and sent hundreds, thousands, of even millions of light years in four point three seconds, and re-integrate on the other side wherever that other Gate is. It could be a world with purple or pink skies, with three suns or a dozen moons, with blue trees or white mushrooms twelve feet tall. Military and scientific expeditions have been going through the Gate on Earth to other worlds for over a decade.

The first mission through the Gate consisted of a team of eight men led by then Colonel Jack O'Neill and it included the archaeologist and linguist that deciphered the Gate, Dr. Daniel Jackson. Dr. Jackson's mission was to make peaceful contact with whomever was found on the other side, and to figure out how to open the Gate to return to Earth, for while he had deciphered the glyphs needed to open the Gate from this side, the glyphs on the other side were different. Colonel O'Neill and his men were there in case the natives weren't so friendly.

The pictographs on this wall, were found in a cave outside of the city of Nagada, on the planet Abydos, a million light years from Earth. They were translated by Dr. Jackson, and they told the full story of how the aliens, that we now know of as the Goa'uld, came to Earth, ten thousand years ago.

During that first mission, O'Neill and his team were captured by one of these Goa'uld. O'Neill grabbed a weapon and tried to effect their escape, but another guard turned the weapon towards him. Rather than risk O'Neill being shot, Dr. Jackson stepped between the two and begged and pleaded for O'Neill's life. Dr. Jackson was killed for his efforts. What follows now is a tape of two people speaking. The normal sounding voice will be that of Dr. Jackson. The other almost double toned voice is that of Ra. The translations are up on the screens.

_I was dead?_

_That is why I chose your race…your bodies…so easy to repair. You have advanced much – harnessed the power of the atom._

_What are you going to do?_

_You should not have reopened the Gate. Soon, I will send your weapon back to your world with a shipment of our mineral which will increase your weapon's destructive power a hundred fold._

_Why would you do that?_

_I created your civilization. Now, I will destroy it._

_But before my workers question my authority, you will prove that I am their one God by killing your companions._

_If I refuse?_

_Then I will destroy you, and all who have seen you. _

The alien called itself Ra. The King of the Gods in the old Egyptian pantheon of Gods and Goddesses. As I said, Colonel O'Neill's mission was to prevent any threat to Earth. For this reason alone he was authorized to use a nuclear bomb to destroy the threat. But Ra got to it first, and he would have used it, had it not been for the very citizens of Abydos, who rose up to throw off their bonds of slavery and assisted O'Neill and his surviving team members in destroying Ra. The team returned home, shy one archaeologist. Dr. Jackson remained on Abydos.

On Earth, where we thought the Gate had only one destination, and with the threat secured, the program was shut down. The man who had been in charge of the program, General West, retired, and another man, General George Hammond, took up the mantle of safeguarding the Gate for the remaining year of his service. The Gate was scheduled to be permanently sealed. Unfortunately, things didn't turn out that way.

Approximately eighteen months later, the Gate opened again, this time from an off-world location. Aliens in Snake-head armor came through the open Gate and captured one US Air Force soldier, and killed several others. A mission was sent back to Abydos, as the thought was the attack had launched from there. The mission commander was Colonel Jack O'Neill, brought out of retirement a second time to go through the Gate. Only the attackers hadn't come from Abydos. Dr. Jackson, was alive and well on the planet. He had taken a native wife, Sha're, daughter of the tribal chieftain of Nagada.

While the team was there, attackers came through that Gate, and took many captives, including Dr. Jackson's wife, and her younger brother, the leader of the Abydonian Militia. Dr. Jackson was away from the site of the battle, showing Colonel O'Neill and others on the mission team, a room lined with solid gold. Imagine it! A room with enough gold to settle the entire debts of the world a dozen times over! But the room was a map room, showing all the locations of the Gate network. Thousands upon thousands of Gates, all linked together into a network. The attackers who came through the Abydos Gate were the same as those who came through our Gate, but they could have come from anywhere or gone to anywhere in the network. Were it not for one man, who happened to see the glyphs as they were pressed into the control console.

An expedition was organized to this new location, with Dr. Jackson along providing linguistical support. The world they traveled to was called Chulak by the natives. The Goa'uld there was Apophis. He had taken Daniel Jackson's wife, implanted her with a Goa'uld parasite, and taken her as his own Queen. By staging an attack and freeing others who were condemned to death by the Goa'uld Apophis, Earth made an enemy.

Though, technically speaking, by killing off Ra eighteen months previously, Earth had started a war with an alien species that was indirectly responsible for our civilization. They gave us reading, writing, mathematics, and science. They taught us how to irrigate our fields for maximum yields. They taught us how to use tools so that we could create monuments to their greatness. Then, our ancestors through them off the planet and sealed the Gate. And they forgot all about us. All those primitive Humans, who had been taken through the Gate, however, passed along myths and legends of a First World, from whence they had come. And as our teams went out into the galaxy to explore, they made contact with the descendants of those captured Humans.

The teams have visited worlds where Mongol tribes still roam on horseback, where Native American Indian tribes live peacefully with each other. They visited one world with a significant Mayan influence, but that had advanced beyond us technologically. Another world that resembled Earth of the mid 1940's with three nations, each battling the other in a Cold War, and one of those nations struggling to create atomic weaponry for defense.

Earth has made a lot of friends in the galaxy, and we've made a lot of enemies. The first enemy was the Goa'uld. From the moment the first mission went to Chulak, to the moment that the most powerful Goa'uld was defeated, nearly eight years had passed. That powerful Goa'uld, Anubis, came to Earth with a fleet to destroy our world. Earth's only existing space ship at that time, and two squadrons of fighters met this fleet in orbit. They fought hard, buying time for a miracle. That miracle came when Colonel Jack O'Neill managed to reactivate a defensive system that had been left here eons ago by another race; the race that was responsible for creating the Gate network. For while the Goa'uld might have claimed the Gates as their own, in reality, the youngest of the Gates has been dated at just over a million years in age, where the oldest of the Goa'uld is only a little over ten thousand years in age. We lost of lot of lives in that one short battle with Anubis, but we won the war.

Along the way, we met three member races of what had once been a four member alliance of civilizations. The Asgard, whom many will recognize as the Roswell Grays, the Nox, and the Ancients, creators of the Gate system. The Asgard might very well be millennia ahead of technologically speaking, yet it was the premier Stargate team known as SG-1 that saved the Asgard civilization from extinction on at least two occassions. Because of what the Asgard saw as our potential as a species, they gave us, possibly the greatest gift that a civilization could give to another; the sum total of their knowledge. As advanced as they were, they could not stop time or the ravages of time. The Asgard are all gone now, and live on only in the minds and memories of those who knew them. Before the Asgard left, they passed onto us, onto Earth, the responsibility for the rest of the universe. It is our place now, to help those who are behind us. Many of these places, these planets who are behind us technologically, are long lost branches of Humanity. We owe it to them, to bring them up to our own level.

I've said a lot, and this is a lot to take in, but there are still two more important topics to cover.

In the beginning, the United States was in this alone. Now, the Stargate program is overseen by a five-member international committee made up of the five Permanent Members of the UN Security Council. For the time being, the program will remain under the auspices of the IOA, however, the eventual goal is to transition the program to control under another agency. I'll explain more on this a little later.

The threats we are facing are two fold. First up, are the Wraith. We had thought that it would take years for the Wraith to reach us from their home bases in the Pegasus Galaxy. That has changed with the arrival of Wraith ships in this galaxy and the destruction of one of our deep space outposts. What are the Wraith, you ask? I'm glad you asked. The Wraith are eveyone's worst nightmare. Alien, life-force sucking, pale-faced vampires. Yes, Vampires. This is the closest way to describe the Wraith. They don't bite. They press a hand against your chest and litterally suck the life out of a victim, leaving behind a withered husk of a human skeleton.

The Ancients fought the Wraith millennia ago, and lost. But before they gave up, they locked the Wraith in the Pegasus galaxy. Our forces, inadvertently stirred them up and alerted them to the re-awakening of the Ancients grand city in the Pegasus galaxy. A city named Atlantis."

Behind him on the screen, the imagery changed from the visual depiction of a Wraith feeding on a human, to the magnificent city that was Atlantis, rising up from beneath the sea, towers glistening with the sunlight. A truly magnificent view of a wonderous city.

"Atlantis, the city described by Plato as having sunk benath the ocean waves. For centuries, explorers have sought it out. Little did we realize that the city Plato spoke of was located on another world, and that the descriptions of it, were memories handed down by the Ancients who came to Earth, their homeworld, to die, after their defeat by the Wraith."

"The Wraith are defeatable. They are not all-powerful. The only thing stopping us from wiping them out, is the lack of ships with which to do so. This is among the many reasons for this announcement; the need for an end to the secrecy and to be able to build our fleet ships in public view. There are, afterall, only so many 'secret' air bases in the world where we can build our fleet ships. Three of our off-world allies, have already signed an agreement, a treaty, to assist us in building a proper and true space station in orbit over Earth. In addition to the scientific research sections, it will also have a set of shipyards for construction and repair, and a small set of manufacturing and refining plants for raw ores from the asteroid belt."

"But while the Wraith may be a fearsome enemy, victory is entirely possible with enough time to build our fleets. Unfortunately, there is another threat.

They call themselves the Ori. They are to the Ancients, what any of the races of man are to one another; brothers. Both species evolved together on the same root world. But a schism developed, over philosophy of all things. The Ancients believed that with enough time, with enough patience, and with enough wisdom and knowledge, a being could ascend to a higher plane of existence, existing as energy and shedding the need for a corporeal body. The Ancients believed that this process was possible for anyone that truly aspired to it. They did not force any lesser beings to worship them as Gods. They do not offer Ascension in exchange for loyalty.

The Ori are the antithesis of the Ancients. A few of them managed to Ascend. And they discovered that they liked the 'spiritual' power granted to them by their worshippers. They offer the chance of ascension to all who follow them, then refuse to do so when pressed. They demand unending loyalty to themselves and if one refuses, that one is destroyed.

We first encountered the Ori some nine months ago, when they managed to finally break free of their prison and make the journey to our galaxy. They came looking for the Ancients, and have found us and our allies instead. Just one, just one, of their ships can lay waste to a planet. They are an ancient power who would be best matched by the Ancients, if any of them were still around. But we, the descendants of the Ancients, are all that is left. And unfortunately it will be we, as the Human civilization of Earth, that will be forced into battle with them.

Ladies and gentlemen, the concludes my prepared remarks, but I ask you to hold your questions for a few minutes more. The following are the roll-call of names of service men and women who have died in combat, since the beginning of the our First Interstellar War against the Goa'uld.

Lieutenant Reginald Banks, KIA, during the air battle over Antarctica.

Major Terrance Benton, KIA, while attempting to secure reinforcements during the Battle for Latona.

Major Henry Boyd and his SG-10 team, KIA, on a reconnaissance mission. The world they were surveying as a possible emergency relocation site fell prey to a super massive black hole.

Colonel Andrei Chekov, KIA, Killed by the Ori when his vessel, the Korolev, was destroyed by the Ori.

Airman Donald Chu, KIA, during an Alien attempted Foothold.

Captain Brian Conner, KIA, interrogated and brutally murdered by Apophis.

Lieutenant John Elliot, KIA, during the mission to evacuate Revanna.

Colonel Paul Emerson, KIA, he commanded the USAF vessel Odyssey, and was killed at the hands of the Lucian Alliance.

Major Dr. Janet Fraiser, KIA, during a battle on P3X-666. She died while saving the life of an injured Airman. Her adopted daughter will be here tomorrow for a ceremony on the Rose Garden honoring her mother, and all of the others who be given awards for saving their planet from annihilation.

Dr. Victor Friesen, KIA, Civilian Scientist, killed by Jaffa loyal to Anubis.

Lieutenant Thomas Glenn, KIA, during the evacuation of the second Alpha Site.

Major Alex Hawkins, KIA, infested by a Goa'uld Parasite, and killed.

Lt. Colonel Sergei Ivanov, KIA, commanded one of the Russian Stargate teams. Killed in the line of duty by the Goa'uld Nirrti.

Major Charles Kawalsky, KIA, Survivor of the first mission to Abydos, infested with a Goa'uld parasite and killed.

Airman Jurgen Loder, KIA, killed by an Unas, a race thought long extinct.

Major Frank Mansfield, KIA, during the mission to evacuate Revanna.

Airman William Plunkett, KIA, during an Alien attempted Foothold.

Lieutenant Tom Redmond, KIA, during the air battle over Antarctica.

Colonel Norman Riley, KIA, during the initial attack on the second Alpha Site.

Dr. Robert Rothman, KIA, Civilian Archaeologist, Infested by a Goa'uld and killed.

Major Simon Wade, KIA, during an attempt to steal weapons grade materials from an enemy stronghold.

This was a partial list of all those who have given their lives in battle against the Goa'uld, the Wraith, and the Ori. White House staff members are handing each of you a packet as I speak. This packet contains the text of my speech, along with all of the graphics presented to you. This packet also includes a documentary made by Emmett Bregman at my behest. It was made two years ago when I first took office, and it includes a brief interview with many of those who fought on the front lines of the Goa'uld War.

Now then, I want to thank you for being patient with me. I'll open the floor to questions at this time."

"Mr. President!"

"Go ahead Tina."

"Tina Myers of the Post. You mentioned allies to Earth. Who are they?"

"The Asgard from the Ida Galaxy. The Nox. The Free Jaffa Alliance. Bedrosia. Argos. Cimmeria. Galar. Hebridan. Langara. Simarka. Tagrea."

"A follow-up question sir. Are all of those places or people as advanced as Earth?"

"The Asgard were significantly more advanced, on the order of thousands of years ahead of us, but they have recently become extinct. The Nox are also significantly more advanced, but they are a very pacifistic race. The Free Jaffa Alliance is made of up of the former slave soldiers of the Goa'uld. We helped them to gain their independence and now they are allied with us. The other worlds, some are on a par with Earth, some behind Earth, and some a little more advanced than Earth. I'll use two worlds as examples. Orban is in many ways on a par with current Earth technology, except for how they teach. They use nanite implants to pass along knowledge of a subject. Pangara is another world that essentially is on a par with Earth, except that they have developed a sort of miracle cure-all for many forms of common Earth diseases."

"Mr. President!"

"Alan?"

"Alan Townes, BBC Times of London. You mentioned the Ori and the Wraith as enemies. Are they the only ones?"

"There are still a few Goa'uld out there, though the vast majority of them are long gone. The SGC is responsible for the deaths of the following major System Lords: Anubis, Apophis, Cronus, Hathor, Ra, Seth, and Marduk, and for the following minor Lords: Amaunet, Tanith, and Imhotep."

"Are there any other enemies?"

"The Wraith and the Ori should be enough, but there are two others; the Lucian Alliance and the Aschen. The former are a group of ex-Jaffa that have gone out on their own and formed a sort of crime syndicate. An interstellar mafia, if you will. The Aschen, on the other hand. We met them with openly and they lied. We offered them assistance in using their Stargate, and they tried to enslave us. When we refused to be slaves to them, they tried to destroy our world with a massive biological bomb, which we stopped from detonating on Earth. The Aschen are responsible for the deaths of various members of the SGC, and for the imprisonment of our Ambassador to them, Joseph Faxon."

"A follow-up question, sir? Is Ambassador Faxon still alive?"

"Occasionally we hear of rumors from third parties that Mr. Faxon is indeed alive. That the Aschen are using him to perfect biological agents for use against Earth."

The questioning continued at length for another thirty minutes before the President called in an evening. Everywhere, the people of the world were stunned by the implications of what the USA had been doing in secret. Interstellar warfare. Space ships capable of reaching other galaxies. Matter teleportation technology. Force field technology. Clean fusion power.

In one fell swoop, the question of whether or not we were alone in the universe had been fully answered. As the members of the press filtered out into the evening air, some to use their cell phones, others to light up cigarettes, they were treated to a unique but very impressive show. Cameras whirred at high speed, and video recorders pointed themselves at the sky as squadron after squadron of the F-302 flew overhead, gliding across the sky and flying almost in welded wing formations before lighting off their burners and climbing high into the sky and disappearing from view.

The fighters were followed by three large ships, and if one looked closely enough, one could make out the names of the vessels as they flew slowly past in an echelon formation Odyssey, Apollo, Ajax, Agamemnon, and Daedalus. It was one hell of an impressive display.

* * *

**Colorado Springs, Colorado  
Home of General George Hammond**

If one looked closely, one would almost swear that Dr. Daniel Jackson was talking to himself. And in a way, he was. He was talking into a voice recorder, remembering all the things that Jack had told him. Landry might be compromised, but Hammond wasn't yet. And that's where he was now. The SGC was compromised. Too many soldiers were being replaced by the Trust because of the Cloned-O'Neill at the Pentagon. Landry had been overjoyed that Jack had managed to find some many who wanted to transfer to Cheyenne Mountain. Little did he realize that he was next on the list of people to clone. All they were waiting for, was a moment alone with him. Jackson took the first opportunity to run away from the Mountain, promising to meet Teal'c in five days time at mountain Teal'c had been fascinated by ever since watching one of the Star Trek movies.

He needed to find someone they could trust with their lives. Jack, Sam, and the others needed rescuing ASAP. The only reason to replace the soldiers at the SGC with TRUST lackeys was because something really big was in the works. Teal'c had gone to Dakara to rally some of the Free Jaffa ships loyal to him. They didn't want to ask for help outright on the off-chance that the Free Jaffa had also been infiltrated. So it had to be a small force of ships that they could hide someone in the Sol system.

"Daniel. I've been expecting you."

"You have, sir? But I didn't know I was coming over here until an hour or so ago."

"I also got a secured email from Jack. Carter installed the system here in my home within a few days of my retirement. A failsafe against a Foothold."

"Good planning. Then you know why I'm here?"

"I do. Jack sent me some instructions for us."

"Us?"

"I'm going with you Dr. Jackson. Those are my people up there. I'm going to help you get them back. Besides, I'm the one with the contacts to do so."

"Deal. Where do we go first?"

"First, we have a cup of coffee while I tell you the big secret."

"Big secret?"

"Before Thor and the Asgard left, they gave us some of their fleet. Mostly older Beliskner class vessels, some Chariot class cargo ships, a few Fenrir class mining and refinery ships, and a pair of very old Tyr class warships, that date back to the Great Alliance. These ships are hidden in hangars throughout our solar system. It was a plan that Jack hatched with Thor; a failsafe against the coming of the Ori. Thor, however, added one of their newest ships to the cache. Jack thinks we should use it as it is heavily armed and shielded, and has a working cloaking field."

"Which ship?"

"The_Daniel Jackson_."

* * *

**Washington, D.C.  
Vietnam Veterans Memorial**

The call he'd received earlier that day had been mysterious. A voice right out of his past had called and asked for a meeting; a chance to clear up some old markers. And so he'd gone to this meeting. Old friends, seeing each other for the first time in years, at the Wall.

"Eli."

"George."

"It's been a few years. I think you've gotten grayer and uglier, if that's possible."

"And you've been eating too much of your own cooking, George. How the hell are ya!"

The two men embraced like long lost friends, surprised to see one another after a decade apart. For a moment, both men flashed back to the bar in Da Nang where they'd first met.

_Flash Back_

It was raining. Again. That's all it ever seemed to do in this miserable place. Rain. When it wasn't raining, it was hot. Powerfully, miserably hot. Hotter than George ever remembered West Texas being during the summer. But then again, his native West Texas summers had been absent of the ever present humidity found in this place. So he was here, in a bar, drinking to the miserable heat, and toasting the memory of yet another friend who'd been shot down earlier that day. Bruce Andrews of California had been a cocky sonofagun who'd taken an even half dozen enemy MiGs with him before getting shot down during the day's mission. Bruce hadn't even managed to eject. The missile had flown right up his tail pipe and exploded, shredding the plane and turning it into a funeral pyre in the sky for his friend.

But still, he had pressed on with his assigned mission, to hit a suspected truck park, and taken a couple bursts of Triple-A for his troubles. He couldn't make it to his base at Korat, and George had been forced to land at Da Nang, for repairs and to mourn.

George was well into his eighth or ninth beer of the evening when a rowdy group of Army aviators came in to the bar. He walked away from the bar and took a quiet table in the back, still drinking his beer, but clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels close to his body. One of the Army pukes came up over to him.

"Say friend, you mind sharing some of that?"

"Actually I do mind. I intend to get shit-faced drunk, and cuss out any gook I see."

"Lost a friend today?"

"Lost my wingman. Pack 6. Damn Telephone Poles were thick today."

"Sorry to hear that. Tell you what, I don't feel much like celebrating for that young whipper-snapper in my outfit that got his bars today, so how about you and drink and toast to too many friends lost in this mess?"

"You know, for an Army puke, you're not that bad."

"And for an Air Farce driver, I guess you're ok."

_End Flash Back_

"I heard you retired, George."

"Eight years in command of the SGC. I was due."

"So why now? Why call me up after all these years?"

"You owe me a few. And I owe you a few. I need a favor and someone I can trust. And you happen to fit the bill."

"I know I'm going to regret asking, but I'll bite. What can I do for you?"

"I know you're with Special Operations at the Pentagon. I need your help. I've been informed that a number of personnel formerly under my command have been captured by forces working against Earth. I've got a ship. I need a good pilot and an operator I can trust."

"Space ship?"

"It's a small one, but it's got some pretty heavy guns on her. I'll tell you the rest if you're up for it. Otherwise, I'll pretend this conversation never happened."

"I'm up for it. You're damn right I'm up for it! Tell me the mission."

"Let's take a walk."

* * *

**Fort Griffith, Missouri  
A day Later**

Ever since Hayes and Disclosure a few days ago, people had taken to protesting at various US military bases. And though Fort Griffith had absolutely nothing to do with the SGC, there were people protesting here, though not in as large a number as those outside the Cheyenne Military Complex. Still it was enough to make a normally quiet man like Dr. Daniel Jackson a bit nervous. As he pulled up to the gates, he went over in his mind what he would say to the man General Hammond had asked him to meet with.

"Identification and purpose of visit."

"Here you go. Name's Daniel Jackson. I'm here to see a Colonel Tom Ryan of the 303rd Logistical Studies Group."

"Very well sir. Please pull into the space there and I'll have a driver come to the gate for you. We're at a heightened state of Alert on account of all the protests lately. Base Commander doesn't want civilians driving around unescorted."

"That works just fine. I usually end up getting lost anyways."

Daniel parked his car in the designated space and turned to grab his briefcase fully of notes for Colonel Ryan. Then he got out of his car. As he closed the door, his briefcase slipped from his hands, and he dropped down to retrieve it, feeling a shot pass by close to where his head had been merely an instant before. Instinct drove him then and he dove for the ground, reaching for a weapon he wasn't carrying, and wishing that he was.

The guards at the front gate reacted not to Dr. Jackson's dive to the ground but to the sound of the gunshots. Four shots in rapid succession. The guards were behind cover and scanning their surroundings looking for the shooter before they realized they had a civilian behind them that might be hurt. While one guard called for reinforcements, the other went to check on Dr. Jackson.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"What the hell? Why am I being shot at?"

"Unknown sir. Standby. We're bringing in reinforcements."

Things happened quickly after that. MPs showed up at the gate and began to search the nearby area looking for any evidence the shooter might have left behind. Dr. Jackson's car, however, would not ever be leaving the scene. One round had passed easily through the driver's side front fender and lodged itself in the engine block. Well, he'd been due for a new car in any case. A HumVee approached and took Dr. Jackson in to the offices of the 303rd. He followed his escort, a tall black man that sort of reminded him of Teal'c into the offices of Colonel Tom Ryan, where he got his first surprise of the say. The man could possibly be a dead ringer for Colonel Marshall Sumner!

"Dr. Jackson, I presume?"

"That would be me. Colonel Ryan?"

"And that's me, or so I'm told. Eli said I should listen to you. I've known Eli a lot of years and I know he doesn't trust easily. So I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Tell me why you're here, Dr. Jackson."

"I was told you could be of help to me. There are few people I can trust at the moment, and honestly, I'm not sure I can trust you."

"Fair enough. Tell me why you feel that way."

"I'm dealing with a Foothold situation. I don't know how much Eli told you or whether you listened to Official Disclosure a few nights ago or not."

"Not much , and I heard it all. A Foothold is an alien incursion, correct?"

"Correct. Forces working against Earth have cloned several officers, and have replaced others in the chain of command at the SGC. And you, Colonel Ryan, bear an uncanny resemblance to a man I knew briefly at the SGC. Marshall Sumner."

"Marsh. Yeah. He and I are first cousins. Born a few months apart. People swear we're twins. Our families had a falling out some years ago and I lost touch. Is he still a jarhead?"

"Colonel Marshall Sumner was captured by the Wraith during a first contact mission in the Pegasus galaxy, some three years ago."

"Damn."

"So what do you need from me, Dr. Jackson?"

"I was told, that you might have certain resources you could call on for a covert mission to rescue the missing personnel."

"Eli told you that?"

"Eli and Henry."

"Henry who?"

"Henry Hayes."

"So you know Henry pretty well, I take it. I guess you would. I hear tell your mission reports are required reading these days."

"I hadn't heard that one."

"Tell me what you need. I'll tell you if I can help."

"I need a small team. No more than five or six men to go in an rescue our people. All we know is that they are being held captive at an off-world location. Eli will be on the mission, along with three of his subordinates. He suggested you to provide the strike team, and using his team for the rescue."

"He said that? He must think a lot of me then. Off-world location, eh? You have a ship, I assume?"

"An Asgard vessel. Heavily armed, heavily shielded, and cloaked. A colleague will pick me up in a few days at a touristy trap out west. Whoever is going with me, needs to be there."

Daniel handed the man the briefing package he and George and Eli had prepared. It included the rendezvous coordinates. Then he made his good-byes and left the building, under the escort of a different man. No shooter had been found, but the Army didn't want to take any chances with civilian lives. And since Dr. Jackson's car was a casualty of the shooting, they provided him with a helicopter ride to Whiteman AFB, where he caught a waiting transport headed west.

Back in the office, Colonel Ryan was reading over the material and handing the pages one at a time to his trusted second, Sgt. Major Jonas Blane. It didn't take them long to go through the full package. When Ryan was done, he waited for Blane to look up indicating that he too, was done.

"What do you think Jonas?"

"I saw the President's speech the other night. If I hadn't seen it, I'd say Dr. Jackson was trying to pull one over on us. But I did see the speech, and I saw the documentary the next night. Those men and women in the documentary, most of them are Special Forces. I don't know General O'Neill personally, but he is a legend in the community. He fought in a secret war for ten years! And never asked for anything in return."

"Did you the report on him regarding Ba'al?"

"I missed that one, I think. What about it?"

"O'Neill was captured by the Goa'uld Ba'al and held for several days during which time he was tortured to death, repeatedly."

"How is that possible?"

"The Goa'uld had something called a sarcophagus which allowed O'Neill to be brought back from the dead and healed of his wounds.. Also, it says that too much time spent in one of those things is like a drug. Coming off it is as bad as heroin withdrawal."

"Does it say how many times he was killed?"

"According to this, O'Neill lost count after fifty odd."

Blane blanched at that bit of news. Here was a man whom he'd heard about. O'Neill was something of a legend in the Community. He recalled bits and pieces of what he'd heard over the years. Held by the Iraqis and escaped on his own after four months of torture. Loyal to a fault; never leaves a man behind alive or dead, even though he himself had been left behind by his own unit. A sniper of some serious skill who would wait for days on a specific target rather than risk hitting a child. Men like O'Neill were the rare ones that deserved all the help they could get when they needed it. And it definitely sounded like he needed Blane's type of help to escape this time.

"I'm in. I'll talk to my team, but I'm in."

"So I'm I. You're down a man since Hector died. If I know Eli, his unit is among the best, but I don't know if they're up to your standards.

* * *

**Three Days Later  
Yosemite National Park  
California**

There it was. In the distance. The mountain that fascinated Teal'c so much after he saw the Kirk character in Star Trek VI free-climbing it. He had often dragged Jackson or O'Neill up here to camp within short sight of the mountain, and twice he had climbed it, just to meditate at the summit. For Teal'c it had been as close to a religious experience as anything else he had done on Earth.

The campsite was a little difficult to find, but it afforded one hell of a view. Dr. Daniel Jackson, and General George Hammond had already been there for a couple of days, finalizing their plans. Jack had been in touch again and the news hadn't been good. General Hank Landry and Dr. Carolyn Lam had joined them in their prison away from home. A day later, so had Lt. Colonel Cameron Mitchell. Then Siler and Walter. Twice, Daniel had been paged by the SGC with instructions to call in, and twice he had ignored those instructions. As a civilian scientist, he was allowed to do so on occasion. The third time he had been paged, it had contained an immediate action code. So, with General Hammond making some appropriate noises in the background, Jackson had called in, and informed them that he was on an airplane bound for an archaeological conference in Cairo. They had stopped calling after that.

The first to arrive had been Eli McNulty and his team. Daniel's first impression had been that Eli and Jack would either get along perfectly, or kill each other. The sarcasm and quick wit that each displayed were almost scary copies of one another. Hammond knew McNulty from their time together in Vietnam, and a by chance meeting at a bar in Da Nang. McNulty had risen in rank to Colonel, and was responsible for putting together Special Operations at the Pentagon.

His Second, Lt. Colonel James 'JT' Tisnewski had spent all of his time with the Army in Delta Force, and had been to a lot of places he couldn't talk about. But he was willing to go one place he had always dreamed of. Space! What kid growing up in the 60s and 70s hadn't dreamed of going into space? It was a heady feeling knowing he would soon be fighting it out in an arena that few had fought in before. Ok, so the SGC did it all the time, but then it was either on other planets, or in space ships. He wondered what zero-gee felt like.

Colonel McNulty's aide was a no-nonsense Marine Master Sergeant. She wasn't there to fight, though she would if pressed to it; all Marines were riflemen first after all. No, She would remain on the ship and handle the communications and the scanners, directing the teams to their targets and making sure no one snuck up on them. She would be at the communications station on the bridge and her CO, McNulty would be at the helm, piloting the ship. That left JT and his most trusted field operative, Captain Bobby Wilkerson to go in after the hostages.

A couple of hours later, as they were enjoying a cup of coffee, another extra large SUV pulled up to the campsite, and this time, five men stepped out of the vehicle. Two of them walked to the rear of the SUV and started pulling out their gear, while Colonel Ryan walked up to Eli and embraced him like a long lost brother.

"Been a damned long time Eli. I heard you were in on this Op, and well, I owe you one."

"Well, I think we can consider all markers wiped clean, eh? I mean, this one will be one for the history books, won't it? SpecOps in space. Man, I never thought I'd live to see this day!"

"Hell man, you were already in-country when Armstrong first walked on the moon. I was still in grade school! But it's always been dream of mine, you know, to go up one day. Guess we both get our chances today."

Hammond cleared his throat, and introductions were made all around.

"Hello. For those of you I haven't met, I'm Dr. Daniel Jackson, archaeologist, linguist, and team member of SG-1. This is General George Hammond, former CO of the SGC."

"Colonel Eli McNulty, Special Operations Command, Pentagon. Lt. Colonel JT Tisnewski and Captain Bobby Wilkerson, two of my best operators, and Master Sergeant Ellis, the woman who keeps me sane."

"Colonel Tom Ryan, 1st Special Actions Group. Command Master Sergeant Jonas Blane, team leader. Sergeant First Class Bob Brown, Master Sergeant Mack Gerhardt, and Sergeant First Class Charles Grey are his team. I'll be joining Jonas and his team as the fifth member. We recently lost one and have yet to finish training potential replacements. When do we leave?"

"Just as soon as our ride gets here. You have enough time, however, to have a cup of coffee and relax a little."

An hour and a half later, the small Asgard communicator that Teal'c had given to Daniel announced his impending arrival. Teal'c wanted some coffee before the departed, and it would give them plenty of time to load their cargo onto the shuttle. Then it would be a short hop to Charon and one of the hidden Asgard hangar facilities in the Sol system. Then it was just a matter of finding O'Neill.

_To be Continue_


	11. Chapter 10

_A/N: To my disdain, the next chapter will be the last with an epilogue. hopefully, there will be a sequel in the future. _

CHAPTER 10

**Two Weeks Previously  
Evening of Disclosure**

They had gathered around the big screen television at LoCocco's cabin. They made for a motley group. Agent Malcolm Barrett from the NID. Agent Tony DiNozzo from NCIS. Vincent Terranova, small time hoodlum. Frank McPike and Daniel Burroughs of the OCB. Susan Profitt of Commodum Enterprises. And of course, Roger LoCocco, host to this most bizarre of events. They sat, glued to the television, hanging on every word that President Hayes said. Barrett knew much of this, but there were parts he didn't know about. Still, it was one thing knowing that you knew the truth, and quite another realizing the entire world now knew the truth. Barrett didn't know what the TRUST was planning, but he had gotten an encrypted email that afternoon from General Hammond informing him that the SGC had been compromised. O'Neill and various others had been replaced with TRUST clones. Whatever they had planned, wouldn't be good for Earth.

When the President was done at last, they looked at one another, coming to the conclusion that the stakes had just changed. It wasn't just some companies hell bent on taking advantage of alien technologies. No. It was now some companies hell bent on taking over the world. That was the only conclusion they could come to.

"Oh God. They don't want to make a profit. They want to be in control!"

"What? Susan? What do you mean?"

"Hell. It makes perfect sense now. They're replacing SGC members with clones. They'd be the only ones who stood a chance at fighting them!"

"Agent Barrett?"

"Call me Malcolm. If we're going to be working together, well 'Agent' is a little formal. But you see what I mean? If the SGC is considered the front lines for the defense of Earth, and if they've replaced the major players there with TRUST clones and lackeys, then whatever they're planning must be BIG with a capital B-I-G!"

"He's right Buckwheat. The stakes just got a whole lot bigger."

"What do we do?"

"We set up a plan. We carry it out. And we walk away quietly, knowing we're heroes."

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

**Outside the Cabin**

Vincent was walking by himself just outside of the cabin. He wasn't a strategist. He was a foot soldier. Tell him what to do and he'd do it. But strategy wasn't his strength. He left that to those who could like McPike. He was lost in thought, thinking back on how he'd gotten here. So lost that he didn't hear her approach, though he should have. He'd been expecting her to approach him since he knew she was coming here.

"Vincent."

"Susan. You're looking good. It's been a long time."

"It has. You've changed. Gotten older. More handsome, I think."

"I, uh, thanks."

"Promise me one thing, Vinnie?"

"If I can."

"Promise me that when this is all over, you'll introduce me to someone willing to do business with my company. You can't imagine how hard it is to run a legitimate business these days. Too many people expect me to do things like Mel did. I don't want that."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Are you still associated with the mob?"

"Not as much as I used to be. I own a small deli in Newark, have a few clients who are wise guys, that's about it."

"We could've been really good together. We still could."

"One step at a time, Susan. It's been years for me. I haven't been with anyone in years, and I'm afraid. Afraid that you won't like who I really am."

"I've always liked you Vinnie. Even when I was ill, I still thought about you."

"One step at a time, Susan. Let's get this done, then discuss it? There is, after all, no guarantee that any of will survive the next few weeks."

"Alright. But I'll hold you to that."

"You do that."

**Next Morning**

They'd been up all night planning, strategizing, discarding, and thinking. But they had a plan they could work from. Mayfield was already a customer of the RLC school. Roger would make an appointment with RLC and offer Mayfield advanced paramilitary training for her soldiers. Vinnie would be one of the instructors, and Roger would make him look very good to a prospective Mayfield. In fact, Vinnie would go along with Roger as a personal bodyguard and driver.

In the meantime, McPike and Burroughs would head north to Virginia to setup a base of operations. Susan would provide some front money to make things go faster and DiNozzo and Barrett would play the part of two agents in a multi-agency task force attempting to dig up information on the TRUST. It was a two pronged attack; one covert, the other overt.

**That Afternoon  
Farrow-Marshall Building**

Charlotte Mayfield couldn't help but wonder why the head of RLC, a Mr. Roger LoCocco wanted to meet with her. RLC had been responsible for training some of her better guards, but the ones she really needed were all ex-military. No one else could give that sort of training, at least in the civilian sector. She needed that resource, but more than anything what she really needed was a reliable person to lead her troops. Reginald might be good in bed, but a leader of men he wasn't.

The man, no, correction, men that she saw walk into her office looked cold and hard. One carried himself easily, but his eyes told the tale; hard as stone and colder than ice. Definitely a killer of men. The other dark haired one, carried himself like a protector. His eyes constantly flitting about the room, always looking for threats to his boss. He looked like he had been chiseled from stone. This was a man who'd had a hard living, who'd earned his muscles not in a gym somewhere, but on the battlefield. In other words, her type of man.

"Good afternoon."

"Ms. Mayfield."

"I must admit, I am curious as to why you requested this meeting."

"Occasionally, I like to meet my clients face to face, to see what has become of the people I've trained for them. And to offer a special advanced class in paramilitary tactics."

"Tactics? I didn't think you had a military background, Mr. LoCocco."

"I caught the tail end of Viet Nam as an Army Ranger. Then went to work as a contractor to the CIA, training the troops in Central and South America, with a brief detour to Afghanistan and the Congo."

"Did you train the winning or loosing sides?"

"Both. Now, in the past year or so, you've sent over two hundred men and women through my school. I thought perhaps with that many 'guards' you'd care to have some with a little more training."

"You're right, of course. Though I had thought to send them to the Ravenwood school for their advanced training."

"That would've been a mistake. I know the instructors over there. I know them cause I turned them down for employment. They just weren't up to my standards, but then again, few men are."

"And your bodyguard?"

"What, Vincent here? He and I met during the failed coup attempt on Isle Pavot. He saved my neck, and I saved his. We walked out there alive, but everyone we'd been sent in with was dead."

"Are you also a Ranger, Mr. Vincent?"

"No ma'am. Urban Warfare Specialist." It wasn't far from the truth, after all he had been a 'foot soldier' in various crime families.

"Do you also teach classes in urban warfare, Mr. LoCocco?"

"That's what I call a 'graduate' course, but yes, I teach that."

"How quickly can you process my people through the course?"

"How many are we talking about?"

"Oh, let's say a hundred to start with."

"That many. Well, I'd have to say no less than six weeks."

"That long, eh? And if I asked you to do it in a week?"

"It's possible. The Seals do that. They call it 'Hell Week'. But are your people up to a week's worth of hard training, study, and very little sleep?"

"How little is little?"

"Less than three hours per day."

"They'll have to be."

"The failure rate will be high. Young punks, in their late teens and twenties can do that type of training. Older students can't hack it. Tell ya what I can do. I've trained two hundred of your people in previous courses. Send them all. I'll split the class in two, and half will go through my class in 'Advanced Insurgency' and the other half through Vincent's course on 'Urban Warfare'. That way, you'll get about half of your people trained on the advanced techniques."

"Hmm. Yes. I like the way you think, Mr. LoCocco. Yes. When can you start?"

"Have them report to the campsite on Saturday by noon. Half will go with Vincent, the other half will stay."

"And where is your Urban Warfare Site?"

"On the back Forty of my property. It's the site for some old movie, but the buildings are very real, even if they're mostly facades."

"Done."

A week and a few days later, LoCocco and Terranova were back in Mayfield's office and she was singing their praises.

"I've heard nothing but bitter complaints about the school, and glowing praise at the methodology used. The men are tired, yes, and they're complaining about that, but they're also stating that they're better for it. How many passed?"

"I found it remarkable enough, but seventy passed my course, and ninety passed Vincent's course. The ones who failed my class, all had health problems they didn't know about and I pulled them when I saw the results of the physicals. I'm sure that neither you nor I wanted dead students to explain. As for the ten who failed Vincent's course, after six days with little to no sleep, an Opposing Force made up of their fellow classmates caught them asleep on duty and stole their flag. They failed the final, but they are welcome to go through the course again, for free, to see if they make it this time."

"Mighty generous of you, sir."

"They earned a second chance. They might have fallen asleep while on guard duty, but the attacking team made enough noise to wake them. They defended their position to the last man. But since they failed to prevent the OpFor from completing the raid, they lost."

"I see. I shall take it under advisement. Now, sir, I have a favor to ask."

"Ask away. Worst I can do is say no."

"Right. Well, I have a new research facility going on line in a week. It's out in Fairfax County, away from the city. I'd like you two to look over the security arrangements, and maybe, since you know the strengths and weaknesses of my guards, assign them as you see fit?"

"Sure. I think we can do that. Small minimal fee, of course."

"Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way."

The others had scored beaucoup intelligence on the subject. Susan had checked with her less than honest contacts, people like herself that had once been on the shadier side of business, and had found that Mayfield and her business allies controlled a significant portion of the wealth on the planet. The fact that most of their new 'breakthroughs' were really reverse-engineered alien techs just left all the more bitter taste in her mouth. So she made entreaties and advances to others of her ilk and they formed a counter to the TRUST. Their goal was the same; protection of the planet. But their methods were vastly different. Commodum Enterprises took the lead with weapons development, while others helped with specific pieces of the ship contracts.

As a consortium of business interests, they had a lot more power as a unit, than they had had as individual concerns. They were a motley lot; sons and daughters of Mafia families, weapons dealers, mercenary companies, 'recreational' pharmaceutical companies, cargo transporters, and Susan Profitt sat at the head of the table. She had pulled them together, and now she would tell them why.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please, take your seats."

"Why are we here Profitt?"

"Because, no matter how legitimate our business concerns are today, they were once rather shady, like mine and Mel's. And while we might have sold guns to third world dictators, and run drugs into the country, and done any number of other 'criminal' activities, neither Mel nor I ever dreamed of staging a coup in the United States. Neither one of us ever conceived of having enough power so that we could manipulate elections at the national level. We might have been criminals in the eyes of the law, but we were loyal to our country. How many of you would disagree with what I just said?"

Silence greeted her question. True, they were all criminals, but they had standards. Not a single one of them would dream of overthrowing the country of their birth. And while many might like to support certain local politicians, the idea of manipulating a national election wasn't unheard of. But no one had ever really tried that. And none of them thought they could ever stoop that low.

"Are you telling us that someone wants to overthrow the US Government?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you."  
"Coups are bad for business."

"Look, you all heard the President's speech the other day, right?"

"Who could've missed it?"

"Well, what if I told you that the coup attempt is being undertaken by a group of companies called the TRUST, and that they are working with those alien bad guys, uhm, Goa'uld, to set themselves up as our new leaders?"

"I might not like Henry Hayes, but I sure as hell don't like the idea of some megalomaniacal alien critter that fancies itself a God as my President."

"But you don't see the full picture, do you Alberto? This Goa'uld doesn't want to be President of the US. He wants to be the ruler of this world!"

"No stinking alien whatever is gonna take over my turf! You called us here, Susan, so obviously you have a plan. Do tell."

"I have it on good authority that this particular Goa'uld is working with a group of companies that call themselves the TRUST. One of them, F&M Pharmaceuticals, recently released those two wonder drugs that cure a couple of very rare forms of cancer? Those drugs were found off-world. Imagine it. If we help the US get rid of the TRUST, and then we offer ourselves as a new consortium of business interests, willing to do business on Earth and off-world, willing to make the investments necessary to accomplish these goals, do you think they'd be grateful?"

"Off-world businesses?"

"The one thing that comes immediately to mind, is a lack of taxes. Think about it. If we set ourselves up on some uninhabited planet, and offer it up as a oh, pleasure planet, who would we pay taxes to? What the Mob did with Vegas in the 50's we can do with a whole planet today. All I'm saying is we help certain federal agencies get rid of the TRUST, then we ask for a planet with no life on it. We pool our resources to build civilian ships. We have the talent in our companies to do so. Tell me, what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking, Ms. Profitt, that I like you're ideas. What certain agencies will we be helping?"

"Here's the part where some of you might, well, flinch. OCB. NID. NCIS."

"Organized Crime Bureau??! Are you out of your flippin' mind?"

"I've already got an agreement in place for myself and my company with the OCB. I help them out with this issue, and they look the other way while I move my business concerns to another planet. Eventually, and if things go as planned, we can declare our independence as a planet, and ask for Diplomatic Status for folks that want to visit their families on Earth. They couldn't touch us again. Ever."

"Diplomatic status? Yes. The Soldati family stands with you. Show us these pigs who wish to do harm to our country, and we will show them the bottom of the river."

"Actually, Alberto, it won't require anything so dramatic as that. The government agencies I mentioned are preparing to move in on the leaders of the TRUST. When they do, their companies will go the way of the Dodo. We need to be prepared to move in and buy them up for a song. In fact, I have secure work stations set up, so that we can begin to acquire blocks of stocks in their companies. Let us do this the legal way, then there will be no questions needed."

"You, are even more devious of mind than your brother was. If he were alive today, I dare say he'd go along with your plan as well. As I said, count the Soldati family in on this deal."

"Backwater Security is with you."

"The Palladino family is also with you."

"Hai. We of Keiretsu Tanaka will stand with you."

"Kemp Industries is on board with this."

"Aye, so is Lane Cargo."

"Then let us get started. There are many businesses to buy, and little time in which to do so. The government is moving in on the TRUST leadership even as we speak."

"Then let us commence our operations as well."

* * *

**Yosemite National Park  
0545 Zulu (2145 PST)**

The Tel'tac appeared behind them and none had even heard it approach. Men who were used to being aware of everything around them reached for weapons stowed in packs, only to have Dr. Jackson announce that their ride was here. Struts appeared beneath the ship and the large vessel settled down onto the ground and powered down whatever it used for engines. Then a side door irised open and two men, wearing chain mail of all things, complete with long capes, stepped out of the craft.

"Hammond of Texas, you are well?"

"As well as I can be Master Bra'tac. I had not expected you to join us."

"I owe O'Neill a life debt. When Teal'c told me of this mission, I knew it was my place to be here. There are many Jaffa that owe SG-1 their freedom. We had to turn many away. Those who we turned away from this mission, even now are in command of Many Ha'taks on their way to safeguard Earth."

"Master Bra'tac, Teal'c. The coffee is still hot. We'll load our gear, and then I'll make introductions."

"Very good Hammond. I have grown to like this coffee drink you offer. It makes me feel like a young man, again!"

A short while later, all the cargo was safely stowed in the rear compartment, the fire was out, and the vehicles locked up tight. All were aboard the Tel'tac, and the shuttle was now cloaked and in orbit over Earth.

"Master Bra'tac, Teal'c. Allow me to introduce the Tau'ri warriors that will join us on this mission. Colonel Eli McNulty of the United States Army will serve as our pilot. Master Sergeant Aujaune Ellis will serve as a communications coordinator for all of the teams we plan to deploy. Colonel James 'JT' Tisnewski and Captain Bobby Wilkerson will be responsible for getting the hostages out of their prison. Command Master Sergeant Jonas Blane, Sergeant First Class Bob Brown, Master Sergeant Mack Gerhardt, and Sergeant First Class Charles Grey will keep the security forces of the prison occupied. And for you and Teal'c, we have two fighters fresh from the assembly line that need pilots."

"And you Hammond?"

"I will remain on the ship as the overall commander. Dr. Jackson will join Colonel Tisnewski to rescue the hostages."

"Wait a minute! I'm not taking a civilian into combat!"

"Stand down, Colonel. Dr. Jackson has served with a front line combat unit with distinction for close to eight years. The man has been killed in the line of duty twice, twice ascended to become an Ancient, and twice returned to us. He can read, write, and speak, well over four dozen languages, most of them alien to Earth. I'd put him up against anyone in Special Forces, and I'd bet on him to win."

"Thank you General Hammond. I think."

The trip to Charon was mercifully short. But the activation procedures for the subsurface hangars were complex and required Dr. Jackson's talents to correctly pronounce various words in Ancient.

"Abicierum locas ameria."

"What?"

"I told the automated system to give up the location of the ark. In this case, the ark is the underground hangar. And there. It's there. Teal'c, follow the dot, please."

"Of course, DanielJackson."

_To be Continue_


	12. Chapter 11 & Epilogue

CHAPTER 11

**Farrow-Marshall Research Station  
Fairfax County, Virginia**

Roger and Vinnie had arrived only minutes before and already they could tell that cracking this facility would be tough. But everything was going according to plan. They'd gotten a single word text from Susan that indicated her part of the plan was underway. And they knew that the leadership of the TRUST was meeting today in the building in front of them. They were there, ostensibly, to look over the security of the facility, and they were doing just that, and marking locations for the troops to come in.

Barrett had gone to a FISA court to get a search warrant, alleging that Farrow-Marshall was a front for a terrorist organization. Barrett was lining up agents that he trusted to serve those warrants, knowing full well there was a chance that at least one of those agents was on the TRUST payroll. He was fully prepared to be taken captive by the TRUST, while DiNozzo and McPike brought down the full wrath of the US Government to bear on Farrow-Marshall. DiNozzo was talking to his director and asking for a favor.

"Director Shepard."

"DiNozzo. Where the hell have you been?"

"I know who did it."

"Who did what, DiNozzo?"

"I know who tried to kill Gibbs."

"Tried to kill? What do you mean tried to kill?"

"They didn't kill him ma'am. I have information that he and the others are being held in a secure facility. I've been working with a friend at the FBI and the NID to get the information."

"And?"

"And something went wrong. Agent Barrett, he's with NID, he went in to serve the search warrants, and he got taken prisoner instead. The bad guys have his agency thoroughly penetrated. McPike, he's a field director for the FBI, he's getting together every agent he can lay his hands on to raid the place. I need every NCIS agent I can find to get Gibbs back."

"Where and when?"

DiNozzo and McPike were amazed at how resourceful the other had been. McPike had managed to convince a friend with the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team to join in the party. There were dozens of agents waiting to storm the place. DiNozzo stood next to McPike, introducing him to his director while his own fellow agents put on their gear and waited for the 'go signal'. It was all a matter of time now.

One by one, the pieces began to fall into place. The first was that Barrett was on his way in with a search warrant. Roger and Vinnie made themselves scarce while that was carried out, looking over the security fence along the perimeter. The two of them were trusted by all at Farrow-Marshall, especially since the two of them had been their trainers. As they walked along the fence, Roger sprayed liquid nitrogen at the various poles, freezing them and cracking them and making them easy to bring down with a simple pull of a thin line, that they had tied to the outside of the fence during a walk along the exterior perimeter.

Just beyond the fence, and no more than one meter into the trees and high grass outside the perimeter fence, the combined might of two agencies stood ready to charge into the fray. The next phase of Roger's plan was a bit tricky, but with a little luck…

* * *

**Charon  
Same Time**

They gotten access to the hangar facility and found a Daniel Jackson class science vessel waiting to be boarded. There were other ships in the hangar, but using one of the Tyr class battleships would have been over kill on a universal scale. The Tyr class. It was Jackson's first look at one. An immense vessel, that according the General Hammond dated back to the Great Alliance. That put it at well over ten thousand years old. Yet it looked like it was fresh off the assembly line.

Eli took some time familiarizing himself with the flight controls, while Ellis got acquainted with the communications crystals. The various teams got their gear on, while Eli took them out into the Sol system. With the cloak engaged, no one knew they were there. They then began listening for the homing signal that O'Neill was emitting. They took one bearing from orbit over Charon, another from the orbit of Jupiter, and a third from the orbit of Mercury, creating three lines that intersected on one particular asteroid deep within the asteroid field.

McNulty parked them close to the asteroid while they gave it the benefit of the Asgard sensors. Artificial gravity. Roving patrols scattered throughout the complex, buried beneath the rocky exterior of the asteroid. They found thruster packs at various locations, and small beam weapon emplacements, that they thought, from the power output, to be capable of shattering other rocks that came too close.

On the flight deck, Teal'c and Bra'tac were making their fighters ready for take-off, and Teal'c was explaining to his mentor the benefits of the dog-fighting missiles. The two fighters were Tau'ri versions of the Gate Ship that Bra'tac and Hammond had once flown. The guns were heavier and there were pods above and below the short wing stubs that had six short range high speed missiles apiece.

They knew that at best, they'd get one shot at this mission. It took the sensors only a few minutes to identify the shield emitters that would prevent them from transporting in. But the shields were down at the moment, and Hammond wanted to make sure they would stay down. The beam-in of the two teams was timed to coincide with the destruction of the surface emitters.

"Fire!"

**Farrow-Marshall Building  
Fairfax County, Virginia**

Vinnie's part of the plan had been to insert a sedative into the water pipes leading in to the building, while Roger manipulated the heating system to drive the temperature up, forcing the guards to drink the tainted water. It wouldn't knock them out completely, but it would slow down their reflexes, allowing the Feds to take them easily.

When the second one-word text page came in from Susan, he knew those in the boardroom would be finding out that something was amiss. Someone was making a concerted effort to buy up their outstanding shares in an obvious bid for a hostile takeover attempt. Only they didn't realize just how hostile things were about to get.

"Go!"

Both 'Fire' and 'Go' had been spoken simultaneously, though neither man knew the other. Just that their parts in this grand scheme were both critical to the outcome, but neither man knew just how critical. Federal agents stormed through the gates of the Farrow-Marshall research station. The gates fell easily, having been cut by LoCocco. The guards that responded to the alarms did so quickly but sluggishly. It felt like their were swimming through molasses and trying to bring their weapons to bear.

The teams beamed in to the same spot, with Blane and his crew moving one way and JT and his team moving another. They had been able to develop crude maps using the Asgard sensor sweeps of the asteroid, and they knew where the prisoners were being held. It was just a matter of getting there before the guards on the asteroid knew they were there.

And then surprise was lost as a four man patrol stumbled onto Blane's team and they went down in a fusillade of bullets. JT and his team looked up at the sound of the gunfire and they knew that their time had run out. Outside the asteroid, the Asgard ship uncloaked and brought up its shields in the same instant. Two fighters shot out from the flight deck, and they were soon joined by more than a dozen death gliders coming up from the asteroid. And two Ha'taks coming fast from behind other asteroids.

Agents from NCIS offices around the district, and the FBI agents ran into the building, not meeting any fire until they hit the lobby, where the guards had pre-prepared positions. They dove for whatever cover they could find as heavy machine gun fire started peppering the walls of the outer lobby. Those in the know, recognized the fire as fifty caliber, and they began to wonder whether the columns between them and the bad guys were decorative or structural in nature. Either way, a fifty caliber slug could really ruin one's day.

One of the agents started firing tear gas canisters into the lobby, calling out a warning to his cohorts as he did so, but one or two agents were still a little slow in getting their masks on and caught a good whiff of the gas. The sounds from the heavy gun emplacements ceased for a moment, and a few agents would swear they heard the_pft-pft-pft _ of a silenced weapon fired on automatic. Then someone called the all-clear and the agents thought no more as they proceeded further into the warren of hallways that made up the building. One agent detached himself from the crews sweeping the building and joined two others at the elevators. DiNozzo, LoCocco, and Terranova took the elevator to the top floor as someone watched them from the shadows. As the elevator stopped for a few minutes on the top floor, the other agent took note of the location and followed the first three up to the top.

JT and his team had finally found the prison section, through an airlock to another part of the asteroid complex. They couldn't hear the other team anymore but Ellis kept them in the loop indicating they were racking up an impressive score of captured operatives. The Intar attachments provided by Teal'c to their weapons were proving very useful in taking the targets alive. As operatives were stunned and secured, Mack would drop a locator beacon onto them and Ellis would beam them directly into a secured room. To the men of the 1st Special Action Group, the action they were undertaking was almost like a game, especially with the occasional burst of alien weapons fire here and there, and the constant chatter of their weapons on automatic. But instead of bullets, they spat little red pills of light, that burned and stunned their targets. Colonel Tom Ryan saw all at once that these modifications to their weapons could be used readily in training. They could fire the weapons and get used to them and yet not get hurt, as was the risk with rubber rounds.

Blane heard a call over the radio they were wearing confirming that the hostages had been rescued and that Ellis was in the process of beaming them out. Another few minutes, and they stopped, taking up position to guard Mack while he readied canisters of sleeping gas for the air circulation system. As soon as word came that all of the hostages were out of the facility, Gerhardt opened the canisters of gas and let them slide into the air vent. The gas was quickly effective, and within a minute all of the remaining dots on the station had stopped moving. Then they were simply beamed up to the secure room on the Asgard vessel.

Rather than destroy the complex, however, O'Neill decided to keep it. Here was a ready made station for the mining and refining ships the Asgard had given them. He left Mitchell in charge of a detachment of personnel from the SGC, along with the weapons they'd liberated from their former captors. Two men, both pilots, took over for Teal'c and Bra'tac in the fighters, running patrols through the field.

The two Ha'tak ships hadn't stood a chance against the small but formidable Asgard vessel. Two shots each, and their shields and engines had been knocked off line. O'Neill put in a call to the_Ajax_ and the _Agamemnon_ and requested their support at the asteroid. They would assume command of the two Ha'taks and process the now captive crews. The Asgard vessel turned for home.

Roger walked into the boardroom at Farrow-Marshall to a very frightened set of directors. They had seen the Federal agents storm the building and they had heard the distant chatter of automatic weapons.

"Mr. LoCocco! Thank the Gods you're here!"

"Who are these men, Charlotte?"

"My Lord, these are the men I told you of."

"Yes? They do look quite commanding. They will make good Jaffa, I believe."

It didn't take many words uttered by the over dressed clown for Roger and Vinnie to realize that this just might be one of those alien Goa'uld the President had talked about during his big Disclosure event.

"You have done us a good service today, in rescuing us from these primitives. When my fleet arrives, you shall all be suitably rewarded."

"Did you say, fleet?"

"Yes. My fleet is only minutes away now. Two dozen of my strongest Ha'taks will soon be in orbit and I will at last take that which is rightfully mine; this puny little planet."

The thoughts that raced through the minds of Roger and Vinnie and Tony were all the same ones.

"Oh shit."

* * *

The _Daniel Jackson_ had just entered orbit when Sam Carter noticed something on the sensors. She had taken over the sensor station from Sergeant Ellis, leaving the woman to monitor communications only instead of the two jobs she'd had previously. Other SGC personnel had taken up available duty stations, some on the small bridge, and some in the small engine room.

"Sirs?"

"What's up Carter?"

"I've got multiple inbounds in hyperspace."

"Friends?"

"Ha'taks, from the profile."

"Teal'c?"

"Free Jaffa ships are already in the system, O'Neill."

"Yeah, I've got those in polar orbits. Three at each pole. Still, I've got at least two dozen individual hyperspace tracks approaching. ETA thirty seconds."

"Damn. Let's get this ship ready to fight. Get the _Ajax_ and _Agamemnon_ and any other SGC vessel up and ready. General Hammond, get word to the ground based interceptor squadrons. Order them to launch on my authority."

"I'm on it."

"Walter, status of our cruisers?"

"_Apollo_ should still be at Atlantis. _Daedalus_ is one her way back._Ajax_ and _Agamemnon_ in system and dealing with those two captured Ha'taks. _Odyssey_ and _Achilles_ are in port."

"Tell _Ajax_ and _Agamemnon_ to leave her security detachments on those captured Ha'taks and to get over here ASAP. Then pass along orders for _Odyssey_ and _Achilles_ to launch immediately."

"Right."

"Jack?"

"Daniel?"

"Do we have enough crew for that big ship back at Charon?"

"I. Damn. Forgot all about those. Good work, Daniel."

Jack turned and found several excess crew members waiting around for orders.

"Hank. Feel like taking over a ship?"

"Damn straight!"

"Teal'c! How fast can you get a crew back to Charon?"

"At full speed, perhaps five minutes."

"Pick yourself a crew, Hank. Get one of the Tyr class ships, and get your ass back here."

"Which are the Tyr class?"

"Teal'c will show you. Thor said one of those could take on six Ha'taks and not break a sweat."

"Sweet."

The shuttle departed the Asgard ship and jumped to hyperspace for the short hop to Charon just as two dozen Ha'taks decanted from hyperspace and into the area between Earth's moon and Earth. They approached in a line formation, and Commander Rabb wondered briefly at the stupidity of the Goa'uld No sea captain in his right mind would use such tactics. It was a guaranteed way of getting killed.

Four Daedalus class cruisers, one Jackson class science ship, and three interceptor squadrons from Earth, along with the squadrons from the cruisers. That and the Free Jaffa Ha'taks were all that stood between Earth and the Goa'uld fleet. As a simple courtesy, O'Neill ordered a simple hail sent to the vessels, and they responded with everything in their arsenal and then some!

Space became awash with bright lights and big explosions. _Odyssey_ charged into the fight, pouring rail gun fire and heavy plasma beams at the enemy vessels, all the while emptying her vertical launch cells of the missile compliment. The _Achilles_ followed her lead, doing the same and saturating the enemy front lines with missile strikes and plasma fire. The _Daniel Jackson_ danced between beams and fired her heavy Asgard disintegrator cannons at the ships, and where the beams touched, parts of the enemies Ha'taks simply vanished. It was like an a giant hand had used an eraser on the ships and simply wiped some of them away.

Fifteen minutes into the battle and still no sign of Landry and his ship. Two of the Free Jaffa Ha'taks had taken serious damage and had limped away to land at Vandenberg. A third ship was drifting lifelessly after a lucky hit from one of the enemy Ha'taks that had punched a hole through her weakened shields, and drilled straight through the ship, striking the life support systems on the way. Two of the cruisers had covered the remaining two while they beamed off the survivors, but the loss of life was heavy. A fourth Free Jaffa Ha'tak was no more, after it had rammed two of the enemy Ha'taks, taking two lives with it shortly before its engines went critical.

"Hyperspace tracks inbound!"

"Damn. They're bringing reinforcements!"

"Negative! They're ours!"

Space lit up briefly as _Daedalus_ and _Fucanglong_ both exited hyperspace directly into the fight. _Daedalus_ deployed her fighter squadron and _Fucanglong_ deployed her two Jumpers into the fight. The Jumpers, with Colonel Sheppard at the controls of one unit and Major Lorne at the controls of the other, each locked up different Ha'taks and let loose with one drone each. The drone weapon was unlike any explosive ever encountered by the Goa'uld previously. Unless one counts the hundreds of drones that annihilated Anubis' fleet, but none of his Jaffa lived to tell that tale. The warhead of the drone was a subspace tap. It drew into itself an amount of energy incalculable by modern methods, and held it within an artificial micro singularity; in other simpler words, it drew upon the power of a captive micro black hole to destroy a target.

Each drone hit a target amidships and when the scanners cleared, no ship remained where the path of the two drones had intersected with a ship. Seeing that they were effective, both Jumpers fired again before turning back to the Fucanglong to re-arm. Such was the limit of the Jumper in that it could only fire two fully charged drones before needing to be re-loaded. Unfortunately, the Ancients hadn't thought to put in any type of energy weapons other than the drone launchers.

_Daedalus_ and the _Fucanglong_ charged in to the fight, coming in fresh as it were, and ready to take some of the stress off the other ships. Still, there was no word from Landry, and O'Neill was getting a little worried. _Daedalus_ was steadily pouring fire at two of the ships that had her in a crossfire. _Fucanglong_ had pinned one enemy Ha'tak with a burst from her heavy plasma cannons only to have said cannon shut down after one shot, completely overheated.

_Odyssey_ took a hit through her weakened shields to the engines and limped off the field of battle, bloodied and blooded. She had accounted for four of the enemy vessels before her wounds had become to great. The_Achilles_ stayed near her sister ship watching over it as it approached Earth for an emergency landing at Vandenberg, before pulling up to rejoin the fight. _Achilles_ had already taken our three Ha'taks. _Ajax_ and _Agamemnon_ stood at two enemies killed each. Thirteen ships down, eleven to go, but these remaining ships had learned some harsh lessons at the hands of the Tau'ri and at the feet of their dead comrades. Rather than go after individual targets, they took to triple and quadruple teaming each target, pouring fire at it, and defending one another from sneak attacks from the remaining Tau'ri ships.

Disaster! The shot had been totally unexpected, but the results were clear for everyone to see. _Fucanglong_ had been cleaved in two! Before any friendly ship could move in her direction to render aid, they saw on the monitors her crew spilling out into space before another beam from an enemy Ha'tak speared what was left of the fuel storage tanks, lighting them up and vaporizing everything for several cubic miles. The crew vanished into the ether of space, vaporized when their ship died. It might have been a little ship, but it had taken three of the enemy with her, leaving eight for her bigger sisters to deal with.

"Hyperspace track inbound!"

"Not again!"

"Unknown configuration. Onboard database reads it as a Tyr class? What the hell is a Tyr class?"

"Way to go Hank!"

The Tyr class battleship, exited hyperspace in a blaze of light and immediately speared three Ha'taks with her heavy weapons, missing a fourth entirely. The Ha'taks turned to face this new enemy and found themselves greatly out matched and out classed. The Tyr class might have been ten thousand years old, but it was still the biggest and baddest ship on the solar block. Well, at least until the Ori could come a'callin'.

The ship turned and speared the remaining Goa'uld Ha'taks leaving them as just so much junk adrift in space. Hank and his ship were a sight for sore eyes and O'Neill let him know.

"Took you long enough."

"Had some engine problems. I don't think anyone has flown this ship in a long time."

"Well, the Asgard did tow it to Charon, so I guess you're excused. For now."

"Situation?"

"Enemy vessels defeated. We were just about to drop in on Ba'al's home away from home."

There was distant sonic boom and Roger prayed and hoped that the sound was what he thought it was.

"No, you've got it wrong. You see, I'm pretty sure our Earth defense forces were able to stop your fleet. And unless I miss my guess, that ship out there is a Daedalus class cruiser. So, sit down, and shut up, before I have no choice but to shoot you. Tony, you're up."

"You are all under arrest on charges of treason, conspiracy to overthrow the legitimate government of the United States, and espionage. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you can not afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Have you understood these rights as I've read them to you?"

"What's the meaning of this LoCocco?"

"What this means, Ms. Mayfield is that we're taking your sorry ass into custody. You didn't really think that I would stand idly by as you took over the planet for your alien friend there, now did you? No, wait. You did. Didn't you. Dumbass."

* * *

* * *

**EPILOGUE  
Six Months Later**

In the wake of Official Disclosure, things had changed. Mostly for the better, but there were a few sticky issues. After attacking an SGC outpost on the Rim, they had all but disappeared, though there were rumors of some sort of power struggle going on within the ranks of the Lucian Alliance. So long as the LA stayed away from Tau'ri affairs, the powers that be, were content to move that particular issue to the back burner, where it would remain for quite some time. The battle in near Earth space had been picked up first by one news channel, then by all of the others and Earth watched, from a front row seat, while her defenders fought and battled and died and won.

There had been such outrage at the President's decision for Full Disclosure. The populace had protested the use of weapons in space. There were, perhaps, one too many who had grown up on the _Next Generation_ or the _Voyager_ version of _Star Trek_ where weapons fire was always a last option and diplomacy came first. But movies and television shows aren't real life. Those who called for a withdrawal of armed ships saw first hand just how dangerous the universe was when those twenty-four armed Ha'taks came to call on Earth. The ships that died had been crewed by their fellow man, and it was like the Twin Towers all over again. The outrage. The shock. The sheer anger. It couldn't have been better planned as a recruiting drive. Suddenly, the Air Force had thousands of applicants wanting in. Enlistment numbers skyrocketed and every member of the IOA suddenly had volunteers willing to fight the terrors in the night.

Director Shepard had been disappointed to not find Jethro in the facility run by Farrow-Marshall, but she had been thrilled when the vessel, later identified as Asgard, had materialized in front of the building, and a strike team had been transported into the boardroom. But DiNozzo already had things well in hand. She had seen him break off from the search teams and head to the elevator. She had wondered what could be so important, until she came face to face with a Goa'uld. And then a very glib tongued individual had appeared in a bright flash of light.

"Ah, Ba'al. How's my least favorite snake doing these days?"

"O'Neill. I should have guessed that my dear Charlotte could not possibly succeed where so many have failed. My fleet is coming here, O'Neill. Your Earth will become mine. Surrender now, and I shall place you high in my new Jaffa army."

"Ah, no. Your fleet was coming. Now, it's just a big ol' pile of debris where your ships used to be. Though I gotta admit, the big honkin' space guns on that Asgard Tyr class battleship were fun to watch."

"Tyr? The Asgard wouldn't have given you any of the Tyr ships, even if they had any left! That would be a direct violation of the Protected Planet's Treaty!"

"Like your fleet coming here wasn't? Never mind. No one's going to help you now. Hmm, I've always wanted a set of Goa'uld skin wallet and belt. What do you think, Carter? Is there enough Goa'uld skin to give me a matching set?"

"Possibly. It would certainly be fun to watch him squirm while you extract that pound of flesh you keep harping about."

"Hmm. It would at that. What do you think Ba'al? Ready to give up your skin for the cause?"

"Go to Sokar!"

"Can't. We killed him too. And destroyed Netu in the process. So, no, can't do that. And hey, whoa, Carter?"

"I see them too sir. Lots of Ba'al clones in here."

"You suppose a matching luggage set is asking too much?"

So now there was one less Goa'uld in the universe, as Ba'al and his clones were destined to spend the rest of their very long lives in specially designed penal asteroid, where good behavior was rewarded with extra rations and additional privileges, and the lack of cooperation meant a room built for two but filled with clones.

On a side note, the companies that had been previously run by the Ba'al clones had suddenly found themselves the targets of hostile takeover attempts. With their various CEOs in federal custody, the boards of directors for those companies capitulated and were soon replaced. Even F&M pharmaceuticals was soon absorbed by Commodum Enterprises, where some of the research they'd been hoarding was released to the public, among the research was a new form of antiviral treatment that put all Earth-created ones to shame and vigorously attacked flu bugs and immune deficiency bugs alike.

The sudden burst in enlistment numbers meant an increase in personnel for the SGC, and that meant fully manned ships in the fleet, and fully staffed squadrons for Earth defense. The SGC's off-world post program was expanded, and the existing planetary sites, Alpha through Lima, were expanded. The few massive anchorages that the SGC had built with the cooperation of various allies also got huge boosts in terms of supplies and personnel. There had been three Anchorages before Ba'al came to Earth. Beta was fully staffed now, and Alpha was under construction in the Sol System. Ten more were planned, but odds were that number would be cut by half, with a new generation of smaller but just as formidable stations going online.

The exposure of the level of corruption at NID had not been a good thing for that particular agency. It had been a thorn in the side of the SGC since the beginning, from running parallel operations to infiltrations to attempted takeovers. Now, things would be different. The President called in to his office a small group of men and women, who had been responsible for the take-down of the TRUST.

"I want, first of all, to thank you for coming in. I know it's a mad house out there, what with all the press lately, but I wanted you here for a couple of reasons. Your country owes you six a great debt that can never be fully repaid. But hopefully the next few minutes will go a long way towards that goal.

Mr. McPike, I'd like you to take over at NID. You and Mr. Burroughs. You have my full permission to do whatever is necessary to clean house of all the corruption at that agency. Swing a big axe if you have to, but just get it done. You were excellent at rooting out corruption in the commercial sector, now I'm asking you to do that for the government.

Roger. I think it's high time you came in from the cold. I've looked at your official record, and that whole mess with Masters and Isle Pavot is officially forgotten. Hell, I couldn't find a single person at CIA that could tell me squat about Isle Pavot. But I don't want you out in the boonies training your own personal mercenary army, so I have a job for you. One last job for your country, then you're free. The SGC and IOA, in cooperation with some of our allies and the Free Jaffa have all agreed to help you with this job, should you accept. We'd like to give you a planet, free and clear, where you can set up your school again. Only this time, you will be training aliens to police their own.

Mr. Terranova, I'm told you took a big risk in volunteering for this mission. That even now, there are various cartels in South America who want your head. That tells me that you were damned good at your job. So, if you want to work with Roger, please feel free to do so. I'm sure he could use the help.

Agent DiNozzo. You have put me in a unique position. Technically, NCIS has no jurisdiction over Air Force matters. But your supervisor, Agent Gibbs, had nothing but praise for you, especially the way you manipulated your director to send in the troops. For the moment, you'll be based at Anchorage Beta, until such time as the Anchorage in Sol Space is completed. And then you will take charge of the Criminal Investigative Service for the Sol sector. You and your teams will be based at Anchorage Alpha, and your jurisdiction will be any military outpost within two hundred light years. Excepting Earth of course. I think we have more than enough squabbles and teams on Earth to take care of this planet.

I'm told, Ms. Profitt, that you have a proposal for me?"

"I do, Mr. President."

And she told him of their plans. How they had taken over the TRUST companies, how they would continue to reverse engineer helpful alien technologies, and how she and her fellow company owners wanted a planet to call their own, to set it up as a tourist attraction, a pleasure planet. They would elect a board of directors amongst themselves to set up a planetary policy, and then they would open up immigration to any from Earth who wanted a chance at a new life. And what did he say to her proposal?

"Agreed."

In fact, all six in the Oval Office agreed to the proposals put forth by their President. And the first thing McPike did as the director of the NID was to find and put away those responsible for Agent Barrett's death. His body had been found in the basement of the Farrow-Marshall building, attached to various electrical wires. He had been tortured to death, but by all accounts, he'd never uttered a single word.

**SGC  
Six Months Post Battle of Sol**

Colonel Marshall Sumner had been on the Daedalus when she had jumped into the fight, and he had directed the weapons stations, giving as good as he got. But immediately after the battle, Sheppard and Lorne had been recalled to Atlantis to deal with a problem there. So it had taken some time to arrange for a meeting, with the concerned parties. Melissa had been staying with her Uncle Gordie, while her mother had been on alert following the battle with Ba'al. She didn't know her father had returned from the dead. But six months was a long time to be away from her mother, whom she missed terribly, and General Cresswell could testify to that without any prompting.

**Surface Pavilion**

SGC

It had been built to facilitate brief visits with family for those personnel stationed at the SGC, especially those who were almost permanently at the Mountain. It was a set of covered benches and BBQ grills, where families could get together and have a nice time before saying good-by to their loved ones. General Cresswell had not ever considered such a setup for his own command at JAG, but the logic of it struck him easily. 'A place to unwind after a particularly brutal case could be a tremendous boon for morale' he thought.

He watched as his niece and her mother were reunited after six long moths apart. Since Ba'al had attacked Earth, the SGC had been on lock-down alert, while the remaining forces loyal to Ba'al had been rooted out. Then the all-clear had been given, and here he was, witnessing a happy event as mother hugged daughter close to her. But neither he nor his niece noticed the other man come up quietly behind them.

"And how's my favorite daughter doing?"

"Wha? Who? Uhm. Dad? Dad!"

It was possibly the best thing he'd ever seen. A daughter reunited with her father who'd been declared KIA. Obviously someone had gotten it wrong. Then he noticed another man coming up the walkway. He didn't recognize him immediately, but the unruly hair was a dead give away. Lt. Colonel John Sheppard. Melissa Sumner saw him at the same time and recognized for whom he was and launched herself at him, pounding her fists into his body and attacking the man she felt was responsible for her father's long disappearance. Until Marshall pulled her away, that is.

"Melissa Sumner! What has gotten in to you!"

"Him! I saw him kill you! I saw him fire the shot that pierced your heart and killed you! I hate him!"

"Look at me, Melissa. Do I look dead to you?"

"No."

"John did me a favor. One which I would have gladly done for him had the situation been reversed. That Wraith Queen had me. She had her hand on my chest and was draining my life away from me. John did me a favor by pulling the trigger. I welcomed death with open arms, just so the Queen wouldn't find out about Earth and you. Then I woke up in a Wraith stasis pod, where my captors had returned my life force to me, and had used me as a guinea pig for their experiments. Had Sheppard known that they could revive me, I think he would have used a grenade instead of a bullet. I owe John my life, Melissa. Don't hate him. He did his duty, as I expected him to."

"I'm sorry, Melissa. I hope you can understand that. I never meant to take your father from you. I know what it's like, to lose a father. I know you won't ever forget what I did to you, but I do hope that some day, you can forgive me."

"I judged you wrong, Colonel Sheppard. For that I'm sorry. I don't know that I can ever forgive of forget, but I can try."

Another man walked up to the small family gathering, and for a split second, Gordon Cresswell thought he was seeing double. Then he remembered his other sister's family, who'd had a falling out with his and with Marshall's family decades ago.

"Can I get one of those hugs too?"

"What? Uhm, Tom?"

"Hello Cuz. Been a long time. I heard about your experience. I've got hand in hand, Cuz. Can you forgive me for listening to ma and being an arrogant fool?"

"Hell. I forgave you years ago. Melissa? Come here, I want you to meet your Uncle Tom, my first cousin."

"Damn. You two could be twins!"

"Oh, don't get him started on the stories!"

"Stories? I like stories. Tell me a story about my dad, Uncle Tom."


	13. Chapterr 1 Revenge Once More

-Revenge Once More-

Prologue

**Cancun, Mexico**

**April 2015**

**1200 Local Time**

Police cruisers coast through the busy street with their lights flashing and siren yelping at the assembling crowd near a cantina next to the beach. The people move out of the way as Mexican police got out of the car and head their way to the Cantina. The onlookers are curious what's going on as reinforcements held them back. The onlookers are none other than American teenagers on a spring break vacation.

"What's going on man?" Ask one of the teenage boys with a bottle of Corona light.

"Mi no habla English gringo," Said one of the officers who are holding the crowd at bay. "Vuelva, para su seguridad."

"Mi no comprende espaniol." The teenage boy replied after taking a sip of the beer.

"Then get yourself an Asgard translator." A man with a mustache and a grey suite said. He grabs his ID and showed it to the police officer. "Inspector Mike Franks, Alliance Federal Police."

As he walks into the cantina, several officers stop him but back away after they saw the badge. The detective in charge approaches him with notes from the witness testimony to what happen.

Inside the cantina, there are single bodies on the ground, covered with a black tarp and blood splatter on the wall. Chairs and tables were overturned and rippled with bullets and smashed.

"What happen?" He asks the detective.

"Several eyewitnesses reported three masked gunmen with submachine guns sprayed the male dead with bullets; leaving two female alive before extracting them to a waiting black van."

"Any identification to who he is?"

"Yes sir, his ID says John Cassidy O'Neill."

"My god," Frank said to himself out loud. He walks to the door and lean against the door post. He knows who John is and Jack will not be happy.

The Detective follow the Federal Agent and gave him the answer is obvious. "Do you know the victim?"

"That's classified information; I expect your report by the end of the day."

"But the case is still ongoing."

"As of right now, your off the case."

"The Cartels might have a hand in this." Detective Pedro said, he realize the drug Cartel are desperate since their drug shipment to the defunct United States has been disrupted by the energy field and satellites in orbit, making the delivery impossible to their clients.

"But this is not the handy work of the Cartels." Frank debunks the idea.

"Who do you suggest did this?" Detective Pedro ask.

"I don't know, but I will find out soon enough." Frank took out a white stone communicator and held it close to his mouth.

* * *

**Somewhere in Central America**

A black van stops in the middle of the forest, three men slid the door open and walk to the back of the van and opens the door; pulling out two masked women out and forcing them to their feet as they stumbles on the ground. The women could be heard crying and begging for their life as they are dragged to the clearing.

"Please, let us go." One of the women said as she begs for them to spare her life and the life of her friend.

As they stood in the middle of the clearing, the ground open up, a set of transport rings surrounded them and transported them somewhere.


End file.
